#come back to it brushing off the dust and get that one split second of panic that you don’t remember the frets or how to hold the pencil or

[anti-gravity-insanity]

Haven’t written in so long I forgot how to do it. Just straight up forgor. Sorry folks but no more words. My grasp on imagination and English grammar? Gone. Obliterated. Took too long and now it rotted away like a shriveled little peach pit. I’ll be formatting all further communications and small talk through a sedated white rabbit that has learned how to use chatGTP. Thank you for your understanding

[lowkeycasanova]

Hear me out, how about the monster trio (separately of course) doing the "princess twirl" like, the straw hats we're against an enemy, so they all split up into gropes but as they reunite after the battle against the enemy, they see their girlfriend they rush over to her then they pick her up and spin her around in the air. (just like they do in the disney movies)

ahh this is so cute!!

Luffy

Smoke lingered in the air, the ground scorched in patches. The battle was finally over, the Straw Hats were beginning to regroup, battered but victorious.

Luffy stood on top of a hill of rubble, a serious expression painted his features. His eyes scanned over the aftermath until they landed on you.

You were some feet away, dusting yourself off. A cut on your leg and some bruises, but otherwise okay. His face lit up into a grin instantly.

"Y/N!" he shouted, eyes lighting up.

Before you could even process it, he launched himself forward, practically bouncing as he closed the distance. You barely had time to process his presence before he scooped you up into his arms with pure, unrestrained joy.

"Luffy-wait!" you squealed.

But he was already spinning you in the air,

Laughing loudly, the wind catching your hair as your legs flew off the ground. He held you with such giddy happiness that you couldn’t help but laugh along, holding onto him tight.

“You’re okay!!” he beamed. “I was gonna come find you if I didn’t see you soon!”

You looked at him-his scratches, the dirt on his face, and the sparkle in his eyes-and your heart fluttered.

“I’m okay,” you said softly, brushing a hand through his messy hair. “And you?”

He nodded, still smiling. “Now that I’ve got you back? I’m great.”

Zoro

The battlefield was finally silent.

Zoro stood among the aftermath, breathing hard, blades sheathed, blood still dripping from a cut on his forehead. Around him, the crew regrouped-but he wasn't paying attention to anyone.

He was scanning. Searching.

His shoulders only relaxed when he saw you limping toward the group, dirt-smudged and tired, but alive.

“Oi,” he muttered under his breath and started toward you without a second thought.

You spotted him and picked up your pace. “Zoro!”

And then-you were lifted off the ground.

His strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he hoisted you into the air, spinning you once before catching you again. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t smooth.

But it was genuine.

“Zoro, what are you-?” you laughed, clinging to him in surprise.

He didn’t answer right away, just held you close, resting his forehead briefly against yours.

“You’re alright,” he murmured. “Good.”

There was a subtle quiver in his voice-a rare crack in his usually tough exterior.

You cupped his cheek gently. “I knew you’d come back.”

He smirked faintly, leaning into your touch. “Yeah. Wouldn’t miss this moment for the world.”

Sanji

The battle was long. Ugly. Flames still crackled in the distance, and the scent of smoke clung to the air like a bad memory. But for Sanji, the world narrowed to one thing the second he caught sight of you across the wreckage.

You were walking slowly, looking around, blood trailing down your arm-but you were upright.

His breath caught. Without hesitation, he took off running.

You looked up just in time. “Sanji?”

He didn’t say a word. Just reached you, cupped your face for half a second-like he needed to make sure you were real-and then swept you off your feet, spinning you once in the air with surprising ease and no theatrics this time.

Just you and him, your laugh carried by the wind.

He held you tight against him after the spin, his cheek brushing against your temple, your feet dangling just a little above the ground.

You clung to him with a stunned giggle, your cheeks pink. “S-Sanji! What's going on?”

“Celebrating,” he said with a breathless smile, setting you down slowly but keeping his hands at your waist. “The fact that you’re safe. The fact that we made it. And…” he added with a teasing smile, “the fact that I get to hold the most beautiful girl in the world like this.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was hammering. “You’re such a flirt.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you-eyes soft, stormy, still shimmering with leftover fear and relief.

“And you’re breathtaking,” he said sincerely, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I was so worried about you.”

Your smile softened. “I was worried about you too.”

“Then maybe next time,” he said, leaning in, “we stick closer together.”

[victorian-writez]

Just friends???

Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader Setting: S2, Grace never existed. Summary: Reader and Alfie reunite from childhood when Reader interrupts Tommy's meeting with Alfie.

The scent of smoke and whiskey lingered thick in the air, curling through the corridors of Arrow House. You were halfway to the sitting room, fingers dusted with flour from baking with Polly, when you heard low voices — one deep and growling, the other smooth and clipped.

You weren’t supposed to interrupt. You knew that. But then again, Tommy didn’t say who the meeting was with.

You pushed the door open slightly, the creak of the old hinges giving you away.

“I told you to—” Tommy’s voice cut off when he saw you.

But your gaze had already landed on the man seated across from him.

“Alfie?”

Alfie Solomons turned, fur draped over his shoulders, beard just as wild as the last time you saw him — though now streaked with more grey. His eyes widened for a split second before they crinkled with a laugh.

“Well I’ll be damned.”

You didn’t think twice. You darted across the room and threw your arms around him. Alfie grunted, but hugged you tightly in return, lifting you slightly off the ground.

“I thought you were dead, you bloody pirate,” you muttered, eyes brimming.

Alfie chuckled, “Well, I almost was, love. But look at you, eh? Still got that same bite in you. Fucked off and married him, did you?”

You laughed, ignoring the tension that suddenly coiled in the room like a living thing. “Tommy’s full of surprises.”

Behind you, your husband sat back in his chair, jaw ticking, cigarette burning low between his fingers. His face was unreadable — smooth, like a calm sea that hid the rocks beneath.

Alfie patted your back, stepping away with a wink. “Right then, I’ll let you two lovebirds be. We’ll catch up soon, yeah? I’ll bring cake, you bring that temper of yours.”

“Deal,” you smiled warmly.

Tommy stood, silent as a viper, and walked Alfie to the door. Not a word exchanged.

When the door shut and the sound of Alfie’s uneven footsteps faded, Tommy turned around slowly, eyes narrowing just slightly.

“You didn’t tell me Alfie Solomons was coming,” you said softly, walking toward him.

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

You raised a brow. “He’s an old friend. From before the war. We used to play stickball in the alleys of Camden, steal sweets together. We were practically siblings.”

Tommy nodded once. Then again.

“Didn’t seem like a sibling reunion,” he muttered, pouring himself a whiskey. He didn’t look at you when he said it, but the burn was there, subtle.

You blinked. “Are you… jealous?”

He turned, glass in hand, that infamous Shelby smirk curling his lips. “I don’t get jealous.”

You stepped into his space, standing toe to toe.

“Then why do you look like you want to shoot the next bearded man I speak to?”

Tommy took a long sip, then placed the glass down with a soft clink. His hands found your waist, fingers dragging slowly across the curve of your back.

“Because I don’t like being reminded that someone else knew you before I did.”

You smiled up at him, amused. “That’s not jealousy?”

“It’s possession,” he said simply. “And love.”

Your smile softened. “You’ve always had me, Tom.”

His lips brushed your ear. “Then remind me again.”

[callsign-fox]

Hard to Measure - Bob/Sentry

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader/Superhero

No warnings! Sentry meets his match, some tension.

So many more to come...have any ideas? Let me know HEREx

Thanks for all the love, I love you guys xo

Bob slammed into the ground hard enough to leave a crater in the pavement.

Not because he landed.

Because someone put him there.

The world tilted for a second, sound ringing in his ears like a struck bell. Smoke curled into the air. His ribs throbbed with a deep, unfamiliar ache. He blinked through the haze, dazed in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Then came the laugh — light and amused.

“Seriously?” a voice rang out. “That’s Sentry? I was expecting more.”

Bob groaned before looking up to see her.

She descended slowly, feet touching the ground softly. She was surrounded by a shimmer of telekinetic energy that warped the air like heat off asphalt. Dressed in radiant white, her cape-skirt billowed, gold shoulder armor resembling wings. Power crackled at her fingertips like it had always belonged there.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, rising slowly.

She grinned, all teeth and trouble. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

His brow creased. “Bucky didn’t mention you.”

“Funny, that,” she said with a lopsided smile. “He tends to underestimate me.”

She vanished — then reappeared behind him like a ripple in the atmosphere. Bob spun too late, caught midair by an invisible force that yanked him upward like a marionette.

“Okay,” he grunted, straining against the hold. “When I get out of this, you’re in for a lot of pain.”

Y/N cocked her head. “Is that a promise?”

A golden flare lit across his body — radiant and sharp. With a thundercrack of energy, he shattered the telekinetic grip, blasting free. Trees tore from the ground, the shockwave rippling outward. He hovered midair, golden eyes locked on her now, focused and alert.

“You’re strong,” he said.

She gave a casual shrug, unimpressed. “You’re slow.”

He smirked. “Am I?”

This time, he moved first — a blur of light and speed. His fist connected midair, a clean strike that sent her tumbling through the sky. She righted herself quickly, laughing under her breath as she rubbed her ribs.

“There it is,” she said. “Was wondering when you’d finally ask me to dance.”

“That was a punch.”

“Same thing.”

She vanished again — reappearing above him. Her boot slammed into his stomach, driving him into the pavement hard enough to split the asphalt. She pressed her heel to his chest, pinning him in place.

“How’s the view from down there, golden boy?”

He groaned, half-laughing. “You’re fast and flirty. Dangerous combination.”

She lifted her boot and stepped back, light crackling around her. “I’ve been told to back down. Lucky you.”

He stood, brushing dust from his suit, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve probably had more practice than me. I’m still getting used to this body.”

“Me too,” she said, flashing a grin and a wink.

Then she was gone — vanishing in a rush of displaced air, her voice trailing behind like an echo:

“Try to keep up.”

Bob stood there a moment, golden light still flickering faintly around him. A hundred thoughts swirled in his head, but only one made it to his lips — a slow, amused smile tugging at the corner.

Bucky definitely left her out on purpose.

~

The road cracked as Bob landed beside Bucky and Yelena, the impact sending a ripple through the dust and debris. Golden light still shimmered faintly around him, but his jaw was tight, eyes fixed on the spot where Sam Wilson stood — waiting for her to appear.

“You good?” Yelena asked, casually scanning him for blood. “You look like you got hit by a meteor.”

“She hits hard,” Bob muttered, rolling his shoulders with a wince.

“I told you to be careful,” Bucky said, flexing his metal arm. “Didn’t think she’d reveal herself this soon.”

“You could’ve at least warned me.”

Yelena smirked. “Wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.”

“Look, Buck,” Sam called over, his tone half-apologetic. “We can talk more about this Avengers thing later. I didn’t mean for your new guy to get his ass handed to him. Hope he’s alright.”

Bucky shrugged, not bothering to hide the weariness in his voice. “Define ‘alright.’”

Before anyone could answer, a shimmer sliced through the air — heat warping reality — and she appeared beside Sam with a grace that made gravity look like a formality.

“Speak of the devil,” Bucky muttered. “Nice to see you, Y/N.”

“Likewise,” she said smoothly. Her eyes locked onto Bob. She didn’t blink.

The atmosphere shifted — subtle, quiet — but undeniable. Everyone felt it.

Bob stepped forward. His posture was easy, but the power still hummed beneath his skin.

“I’m not used to being surprised,” he said.

She didn’t answer.

“No one’s ever caught me off guard like that.”

“No one’s ever kept up with me,” she replied, the edge in her voice wrapped in velvet and steel.

Walker strode over, arms crossed, jaw clenched like always. “You’re supposed to be stronger than all the Avengers,” he said, nodding at Bob. “Avengers-level-plus, right? What the hell happened?”

Bob didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed on her. “She’s not exactly easy to measure.”

Y/N glanced down at her boots to hide the smirk, but he caught it — and his chest burned a little warmer.

Yelena raised a brow. “Also, she’s not technically an Avenger.”

Bob shot her a look. “You’re not helping.”

“I never said I was,” Yelena replied sweetly.

Bob huffed a dry laugh, then stepped a little closer to Y/N, his voice dipping just for her.

“So what are we, then? Even?”

“Not even close.”

He tilted his head. “You planning to settle the score?”

“Do you think you can handle a rematch?”

His grin was slow, a little wicked. “Sweetheart, I’m hoping for one.”

“You ready to get knocked on your ass again?”

He leaned in, voice like a spark just before the fire. “Depends. Are we still talking about fighting?”

She held his gaze. “You tell me.”

His eyes moved over her — not crude, not shy — just present. Interested. Deeply, recklessly interested.

“You’re lethal when you flirt,” he murmured.

“I wasn’t flirting,” she said. “Yet.”

The silence crackled — taut and electric, like the moment just before a storm breaks.

Sam glanced between them, then leaned in to whisper something to Joaquin.

Bob tilted his head, gold flickering behind his eyes. “Then I should warn you — I won’t be holding anything back.”

Y/N’s lips curved. “Good,” she murmured, brushing past him. “I like it rough.”

He watched her go, a rare mix of awe and amusement tugging at his features.

Bucky, who had definitely been listening, muttered to Sam out of the corner of his mouth, “This is gonna be a nightmare.”

Technically Part 2 - Over My Head

[funnyexel]

it's the stalker.

he was entranced.

by you.

the way your breasts moved freely under your shirt as you fumbled with your curtains after experiencing a brief moment of eye contact. It was heaven. he felt like he died ascended and descended all in a matter of seconds. he couldn't ask for more in the moment. seeing your irises widen then focus on his distant figure, in a split of fear.

but you.

you were alarmed. alarmed by the staring of a random man. you hastily undid your curtains and shut them as fast as you could. quickly your body took you to your door and make sure you locked it. you took a much needed breath but that didn't stop your chest from violently moving up and down. your heart pounding in your ears as you leaned against the door briefly before leaving to go back to what you were previously doing.

you thought that eye contact was bad. but it got worse. you didn't think when bags and bags of things kept showing up to your door. at first small packages that you mindlessly brought inside your home, then, undisguised bags of luxury items and items you wanted but wouldn't buy just as yet. you were warned not to open them but you couldn't help but peek.

and they were real. actual items in the bags and you had to check. something in you told you that this couldn't be real. but it surely was.

you still didn't open or wear a thing. it infuriated him. he didn't buy you these things for them to collect dust. but, besides this, he needs to see you. he's aching for you. so he does.

there you were obliviously window shopping because he knows you're too goddamn responsible to buy the things you want. he watched as you paced up and down the isle. analyzing the clothing and silently cursing to yourself when you check the tag. it made his chest rumble from a quiet chuckle. those leggings you wore hugged your body and infatuated your hips to give you a delicious figure.

oh

you bent over to pick up a shirt you knocked it off the hanger and he got the perfect view of your ass. the movement itself was quick and ridded with embarrassment from making something fall. but it still made his trousers annoyingly tight as he gazed at you.

he couldn't hold himself back anymore. he walked into the store. knowing exactly where you were as he walked in nonchalantly. he seemed confident to anyone around, but inside, he was just trembling. he was turning into where you clearly were but you were leaving at the same time, your shoulder nearly brushed against his as you pasted each other. he could feel the heat of your body past him and he could smell the sweet scent of vanilla coming off your person and he nearly rolled his eyes back.

you were too much for his own good.

and just like that you walked out the door like he was nobody. but he knew you felt it, felt that spark when you glided by one another. it was an electric surge and he couldn't rid it from his body. this lead him to pick up everything that caught your eye in the store and buy it.

he was an irresponsible child when it came to you and materialistic things, but he could care less. money comes and goes, he thought. and you are one in a lifetime for him.

he was nervous around you, popping up at places you least expected it and getting ignored by you only fueled his efforts. and he benefited from it. he talked to you.

he talked to you.

it was brief, like every other interaction you had, but it was an everlasting moment in his mind. you bumped into him this time. oh, how much joy he felt when your warm body clashed with his. it even took you a second longer to detach from him than it would a normal person. you were all over him and he knew it.

you politely said excuse me and stared into his eyes. he couldn't even blink, afraid he would miss a single moment in your presence. he imagined you looking back at him when you walked away and even fantasized that there was a smile on your face but who could even be so sure?

him?

not when he was laying down and imagining you were watching him, just as he was stalking watching you. one hand slithering under his boxers to palm himself while the other held his chest. right where you bumped into him. he contemplated never taking off the sweater, let alone washing it. but that had no space in his mind now. it was too busy thinking of you and your alluring scent.

stroking himself to you alone, he could imagine your warmth against him. your mouth, your tits and of course that hole. any one he wanted. because he knew what he meant to you. he was your prize, just as you were his. he had to work for you and you had to work for him. if that means he has to spend nights just aching and pleading for you, then so be it. he needs you. he needs you so bad it can kill him.

and when the time is right, he will come and see you.

he will break those pathetic petty locks of yours and enter your room. he will peel back those layers of sheets you use to cover that lovely body, and his fingers will run down your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. he will hook his fingers on your skimpy underwear and pull them down to your ankles.

and he will fuck you.

some more stories

a/n: inspired by a dream and no. I cannot elaborate.

[dipperscavern]

as you write and create wonders from thin air, i bring forward to you a humble request from the town folk: jon snow marrying/wedding, drabble or such 🙏 my life is yours 🙂‍↕️

thin air?? never!! i could never do it without my lovely anons 💗💗

jon snow x reader (gn i believe… idk reader has hair long enough to braid!)

you’re being dramatic. no, really, you are — but you’ll allow yourself this one moment, it is your wedding day, after all.

jon is the only one who knows how to braid your hair the way you like. both sansa and arya have tried their very best to replicate it, but one way or another it never turns out quite how you need it to be.

the easy fix of simply asking for jon's help is thwarted by aryas insistence of a braavosi wedding tradition, one which requires you and jon to not see each other until the actual ceremony. according to her, doing so supposedly brings bad luck. one shared look between you and jon says neither of you quite believe it, but you've humored the princess nonetheless. up until now, that is.

the door shuts with a click. jon, expecting sam or perhaps one of his sisters, is thoroughly surprised when greeted by the sight of you. "I, uh, thought we.."

"Are you not happy to see me, Jon Snow?"

jon cant help but smile while getting his first proper look of you all day, and the one you bite back reaffirms that he's in no real danger. "I need your help."

"With what?"

you look away momentarily - the way you do when you're nervous to ask for something. he finds the action terribly endearing. "My hair. Could you braid it?”

aye, he thinks. he could also kiss you silly and mess up the small bit of makeup sansa has dusted over your features. he could make you both late to your own wedding.

instead, his pupils dilate ever so slightly, face softening along with them. “Turn around.”

you flash a smile before heeding his request. it hits him that he’ll get to see that very smile for the rest of his waking days, if the gods are good.

his hands are gentle as they work your hair, delicately intertwining the strands in a dance he’s done countless times before. the feeling of his skin occasionally brushing against yours sends your lashes fluttering shut, goosebumps breaking out across your shoulders.

the silence of this moment is comforting — a momentary chance to rest, your day having been a whirlwind so far. everyone has decidedly thrown themselves into this; a bright, shining, good thing happening amidst all the bad that has scorched not just the north, but the entirety of westeros for the last coming years.

sansa has spent the last days sewing you and jon’s cloaks, and arya spent the morning making you a hair mask that has, undoubtedly, made it softer than ever. when asked she only shakes her head, letting you know she intends to keep the recipe closely guarded. and he’d never admit to it, but you know theon is responsible for the fresh sheets, new candles, and the pastries being made by the cooks to warm everyone up once back inside from the ceremony.

jon sliding the hair band you brought off your wrist brings you back to the present moment, eyes reopening & landing in the door in front of you. “Done.”

hands on your waist turn you to meet their owner, and before you can utter thanks, you hear footsteps making their way to the door directly behind jon. they’re light, airy — almost nonexistent. but a split second after you notice, jon’s head turns to confirm what his ears tell him.

when he looks back at you, childlike fear of being caught dances in his pupils. you can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes you as you turn to quickly (and quietly) exit out the door you came in from.

he’s quick to help usher you out in lieu of his sisters approaching footsteps. “You’re my savior.” you tell him.

he doesn’t shut the door without pressing a small kiss to your lips first. “I bask in the glory.”

[hotchner-edu]

hi! I know you’re on a little writing break but if you get the chance what about where reader has to do like hand to hand combat with an unsub like JJ does in s7 bc her and hotch get paired up but they take him out first and so it’s up to her to get them both out of there alive or something and then him and everyone on the team is impressed bc reader doesnt look like the type to be able to do that or something 🤓

The Claws Come Out (Drabble) | Aaron Hotchner

It was no secret that you and Spencer were a bit coddled on the team, being the two youngest agents with, according to Derek, the demeanor of a kitten cosplaying business casual. You and Spencer have grown to just accept the picture the team has painted and prove your capabilities in other ways on the field.

"How's it looking so far, Spence?" You mumble and stare at the map he's pinned up on the board. Derek has his arms crossed, swaying a bit in his chair as he waits for the next phone call from the unsub. Hotch is standing beside your chair, eyebrows pinched together as he directs his attention to the board.

"I've narrowed it down to two places." Spencer hums, stepping back to analyze his work.

"But..?" You can sense how he's trailing off.

"They're on opposite sides of town. Deducing from the echoes we heard from his last calls, and the strong emotional connections he has with the previous crime scenes, we're left with..." Spencer points to two distant ends on the map. "The warehouse he was fired from and the church he frequented as a child." He finishes and clears his throat, turning around to look at Hotch.

"So we split?" You suggest and whirl your chair around to look up at the stern man.

Your unit chief considers it for a second before nodding and looking around the precinct. "Alright. Reid, you and Dave stay here and wait to see if Thompson calls again. If he does, keep him talking." He then turns to Derek. "Morgan, I want you, JJ, and Prentiss to go to the warehouse."

"And we'll go to the church." You finish softly and smile, standing up and stretching your arms as you turn to your boss. "Can I drive?"

Unfortunately, you're yet again relegated to the role of passenger princess as Hotch navigates through the town, caution for the speed limit thrown into the wind. "He's not going to go down without a fight."

Hotch's words sound cautious, and when the car turns into the church parking lot, your eyes widen as you see Thompson's vehicle parked haphazardly by some bushes. "He's here. I'll tell the others."

"We can't wait for them to get here." Hotch is already unbuckling his seatbelt, only waiting until you send a swift text before hurrying to the church entrance.

You're trailing behind him, gun unholstered and pointed toward the concrete. "Only one entrance." You huff out with a worried sigh, watching as Hotch gently pushes one of the tall doors open, his other hand gripping his gun.

Fortunately, neither of you are immediately gunned down as he swiftly opens the door and ducks out of the way. It seemed that your unsub wasn't sitting at a pew, firearm at the ready.

You motion that you're going to go investigate one of the narrow hallways to your right, and Hotch goes deeper into the church. With your gun raised, you carefully step through the dimly lit passageway, seeing stacked storage bins coated in dust, and old books stacked on some rickety shelves.

No sign of Thompson.

Just as that thought brushes across your mind, you hear a familiar grunt along with some crashes. Hurrying out of the room, you rush back into the nave, eyes immediately zeroing in on your unit chief laying on the ground.

Some of the candles by the pews are knocked over, and you're only able to snap out of your shock when a harsh kick from your right sends your gun sliding across the floor. Recovering quickly, you see Thompson's shoe coming in for another hit, this time aimed at your face, and you duck breathlessly.

Seeing that the man is unarmed, you pop back up on your feet and close the distance between you both to send a punch across his face. Your right hook ushers a surprised grunt from his lips, and you quickly take advantage of his unsteady balance by sending a spinning back kick right to his sternum.

He flies back a bit and hunches over before letting out an enraged cry and lunging for you, hands flailing. You meet his hits with a sidestep and you send a kick to his backside, his momentum combined with your kick sending him headfirst toward the ground.

You see him trying to reach for your gun that's a few feet in front of him and you hurry to kick it away, yelping when he grabs your ankle and tugs you back, sending you crashing to the floor too.

He tries to get on top of you, breathing in harshly as he shuffles closer. Flipping onto your back, you grunt and lay your foot down on the ground to steady yourself before using the other to kick up toward his chest. He groans as he falls back, clutching at his chest that was likely aching from your previous kick.

Getting up on your feet, you watch him scramble to do the same. You can tell from his hunched shoulders and heavy breathing that he's having a hard time catching his breath and that this exchange was nearing its end. Grunting in frustration, you roundhouse kick him in a flash, the adrenaline practically bursting from your pores.

It's almost comical the way he flips over the pew behind him, crashing onto the floor in an unconscious heap. Catching your breath, you immediately hurry to retrieve your gun. However, as you turn around you're met with the shocked faces of your team at the entrance, guns lowered.

Blinking slowly at them, you offer a sheepish smile before turning to go check up on your boss. Your movements snap them back to reality as they hurry to call for backup and medics, Derek already marching to cuff your unconscious unsub.

No one says anything about the altercation until your hand is bandaged up and Hotch is cleared of any serious injuries. As you're walking away from the ambulance, Emily sidles up to your right and swings an arm over your shoulder.

"Kitty's got claws." She hums out with a bright smile.

"It was nothing." You shake your head and chuckle softly as she leads you over to where the team is circled together.

Rossi smiles brightly when he sees you, hand moving to pat your shoulder. "I heard from a little birdy that you saved the day. Good job, kiddo."

"Yeah, we were going to intervene, but you were winning." Derek jokes and shrugs. "But when were you going to tell us you could do all of that?"

"I was honestly going to wait for the day where you challenged me to hand-to-hand." You snicker softly. Derek rolls his eyes and shakes his head affectionately, calling out to Spencer with a teasing remark as he approaches with his hands in his pockets.

Your eyes dart around the vicinity, your head perking up a little when you see Hotch walking toward you all after shaking hands with the local police chief.

Slipping away from the group, you walk toward him with a small grin. "You gave me quite the scare, y'know?"

An all too fond smile flickers across his face. "I'm fine, but good job today. You've got a great roundhouse."

"It was nothing." You shrug before furrowing your eyebrows and looking at him inquisitively. "Wait, you saw that?"

"Yeah, I came to after you landed on the floor." He says with a faint smirk, raising a hand to brush against yours. "Are you okay though? It seemed like a hard fall."

You don't comment when his pinky hooks around yours. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm more sturdy than I look."

His eyebrows raise in amusement and his face softens as he keeps his gaze on you. "We should have you training the new recruits then."

"That'd be fun." You muse out as you turn to look at the cars around you. "Actually, Hotch, I'm so okay in fact that I think I'm fine enough to drive us back."

His chest rumbles with a chuckle as he shakes his head and walks toward the Buick you both took earlier. "Not a chance."

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

REMEMBER YOU YOUNG // bucky barnes

CHAPTER 1: WELCOME TO NEW YORK

Summary: You end up stuck in 1942 without a way to come back, but when you meet the young and charming version of Bucky Barnes, do you really want to go back to the present?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of war, lack of 40's knowledge, mentions of back to the future & the butterfly effect (with spoilers)

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. I'm sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors. No proofread or beta-ed.

It’s been an eternity since I've written for Bucky… I posted this fic I a few years ago, and I was going through it again, but I wasn’t happy with how I wrote it back in the day, so I decided to start it over. Reader how travels back in time and falls in love with Bucky is one of my favorite tropes 🙈 Hope you guys like it!!!!

marvel masterlist | series masterlist

It was supposed to be an easy mission.

In and out.

Easy. Risk-free.

You'd had the warehouse under surveillance for weeks, every corner carefully analyzed, the plan memorized like a mantra.

Steve had repeatedly said, “Do not touch the crystal.” To be honest, he'd repeated it more times than necessary. And even if you'd never admit it, you knew you were the reason for it.

Impulsive.

Reckless.

Hot-headed.

You were a good agent; that was indisputable. But you had the flaw of having trouble keeping your restlessness and curiosity at bay.

And that's why, when you entered the room, with Wanda behind you, your eyes were drawn to the glass resting on a pillar in the center of the room. It radiated an almost hypnotic white glow.

Steve's voice warning that the crystal shouldn't be touched without proper protection echoed in a remote corner of your mind, like an echo fading into the distance. And even closer, Wanda's voice was a murmur urgently calling your name.

You couldn't help it. It was like a magnetic pull, and the Chrono Crystal was chanting your name.

Your hand extended slowly, almost subconsciously. The moment felt frozen in time, as if the world had stopped spinning for a split second. When your fingertips finally made contact with the raw edges of the crystal, a pulse rushed through your body, leaving you paralyzed.

And then it happened.

The first thing was a powerful flash of light, so powerful that when you faced it, you had to close your eyes and shield your face with your arm.

The next thing was a tremor, the vibration of the ground resonating through your bones, and with a shudder, you lost your balance, collapsing next to Wanda on the cold concrete floor.

Then, a gust of wind blew toward you, a whirlwind that carried with it a force that defied logic. The white light intensified even further, enveloping every corner of the room in a flash so bright it was impossible to see anything. A few seconds later, the chaos ceased, and everything went black.

As your vision cleared, you realized something was wrong. The cold walls and concrete floor of the warehouse had been replaced by the grimy walls and floor of a dimly lit alley.

You slowly got up from the ground, wincing in pain as you touched your side, feeling it slightly bruised from the fall. Dazed and disoriented, you struggled to process your abrupt displacement. You found yourself standing in a narrow alleyway, surrounded by decaying posters plastered on the walls. The clamor of bustling city life and indistinct chatter filled your ears.

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of the situation. “What the hell just happened?”

You heard Wanda groaning while getting up on her feet, brushing the dust off her jacket. When her sight gathered back its focus, her expression morphed into a confused one, which you were pretty sure matched yours.

“Where are we?”

You took tentative steps, your eyes darting from one end of the alley to the other, searching for any semblance of familiarity. The disorienting shift in your surroundings fueled a growing sense of unease within you. Your heart raced as you tried to recall what could have caused this bewildering displacement.

Then it hit you.

“The crystal,” you murmured.

“Steve warned you not to touch it,” she reprimanded.

“Actually, he warned all of us.”

“He just said it because of you.”

And you knew she was right.

You turned around to see Wanda, who was holding a newspaper in her hands with a frightened expression on her face. 

“What is it?” you inquired, curious as to what had disturbed her so deeply. She put out the newspaper for you to read, and dread settled in your gut. 

“THE BATTLEFRONTS OF THE WAR IN THE SOUTHWESTERN PACIFIC JAPANESE CLOSING PINCERS ON JAVA”

And the date.

February 18, 1942.

“We’re… We’re in the past.” The realization tumbled from your lips, heavy and surreal.

Was it actually feasible that you had gone back in time? 

Is this why they kept the crystal secured?

“What do we do now?” Wanda looked at you as if she expected you to come up with a solution; after all, you were responsible for this situation. If you had followed Steve’s orders and not touched the Chrono Crystal, you would not be here right now. Instead, you would have finished the mission and be back at the compound, safe and enjoying a cup of ice cream while watching some shitty show on Netflix.

You sighed. “I don’t know.”

“They’re going to come for us, right?”

You could hear the tremble of anxiety in her voice as she spoke, and it matched your own mounting fear. The weight of the moment pressed down on your shoulders, with each second extending into eternity as you tried to come up with a plan.

“Yeah, eventually,” you replied, though your words were coated with uncertainty. “They must have realized something had happened. Tony and Banner would quickly figure out what the crystal can do.”

“What do we do until then?”

For the time being, you concluded that looking for a place to stay was the best course of action. You stepped out of the alley and onto the streets of Brooklyn. 

The air was filled with the sounds of streetcars clattering down the rails and people discussing the latest news. The sidewalks were bustling with activity, lined with oak trees and lampposts. 

Men in hats and suits, women in gowns with nicely coiled curls, all going about their daily routines. Stores displayed their goods in small windows, luring passersby with flashy signs. The aromas of freshly baked bread and fried fish wafted from corner delis and bakeries.

You noticed the advertisements painted on brick walls, touting things that have long ago disappeared or evolved, and the newspaper boys shouting headlines about the ongoing war, and mothers rushing by with their children.

Everything felt so familiar yet completely foreign.

You understood how Steve felt when he walked into Times Square for the first time after being defrosted.

As you went through the crowd, you could see people giving you weird looks, attempting to get out of your way, and avoiding walking near you at all. 

“Why are they looking at us like that?” you inquired.

Wanda halted walking and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the side of the roadway. “I think it’s the clothes,” she pointed out.

“What’s wrong with our— ” You stopped your words when you took a look at what you were wearing. “Oh.”

You couldn’t stroll down like that. It was drawing attention, which was the last thing you two needed right now. Wanda paused for a moment, unsure if she should do what she was contemplating or not; it was a good option, the only one you had. 

Wanda sighed. She did not have a choice. 

You glanced at her and immediately knew what she wanted to do. It was one of the many reasons The Scarlet Witch was your closest friend—there was no need for words to communicate what the other was thinking.

With a snap of her fingers and just a few seconds later, you glanced down to see your new garments. Your twenty-first-century clothing had been swapped for simple, period-appropriate attire, resembling those commonly worn by women in those days.

You looked at her with the fascination that you’d always held whenever you saw Wanda utilize her powers. You couldn’t understand why people could be afraid of her when she could do such wonderful things.

The next day, you were lying in the bed of the hostel you were staying in, and the ceiling had never looked more interesting. It had been more than 24 hours, and you still hadn't heard from your friends.

You hadn’t left the room since you arrived and were beginning to feel suffocated.

“Let’s get out,” you said as you rose from the bed. Wanda averted her attention from the book she was reading and glanced at you as if you’d grown a second head.

“Are you crazy? We can’t just wander around the city like that!”

“Why not?” You pouted and sat in her bed next to her. “What is the harm?”

Impulsive.

Reckless.

Hot-headed.

Careless.

Wanda sighed and shut the book in her hands. “We aren’t home! We cannot parade around the city as if we belong here.”

“I just want to have some fun!”

“You wanting to have fun is what brings you into trouble, and let the rest of us deal with the consequences.”

She was not trying to be mean. She loved you; you were her best friend, her shoulder to cry on, and the only consistency in her life, but your persistent negligence drove her nuts. No matter how many times you burned, you never learned.

Like right now— you were stuck eighty years back in the past because of your reckless behavior, and you wanted to go out and have fun as if it were any other Friday.

You got up abruptly from the bed and made your way to the door.

“Where are you going?”

You did not respond to her as you exited the room, closing the door behind you and leaving the building and onto the streets of New York. You knew you were acting childishly, and Wanda was correct, but you were too proud to admit it.

You wandered through the streets with no particular destination in mind; all you wanted was to feel the breeze on your face. You had been walking for at least twenty minutes when you spotted a building that caught your eye.

‘The Lindy Lounge’

A dance hall.

You crossed the street and headed towards the building. 

The doorman, dressed in a clean white shirt, a black vest, and a bow tie, smiled and nodded to you in greeting.

A live band playing a fast tune, the beating of tap shoes on the shiny wooden floor. The aromas of perfume and tobacco smoke hung in the air.

Couples swayed in perfect sync with the music on the dance floor. A half-moon-shaped bar circled one wall of the room where patrons gathered, sipping cocktails and chatting.

The scene was completely different from the clubs you used to go to in Brooklyn nowadays.

As your eyes kept exploring the room, you spotted a short man standing out from the crowd that you couldn’t help but recognize. You narrowed your eyes, trying to get a better glimpse of him.

He was so much different now, but you could still recognize Steve Rogers anywhere.

You turned away as soon as you recognized him. Steve could not see you—yes, he didn’t know who you were yet, but he would meet you in the future, which could have a wide range of consequences. 

What if you do something that changes the past and influences the future?

You’ve watched ‘Back to the Future’ enough times to know that one small action could create ripples across time. 

The butterfly effect was no joke. 

What if you do something that alters the past and impacts the future?

Like when Marty unintentionally interfered with his parents’ first meeting, almost wiping himself out of existence.

Or that other movie with Ashton Kutcher, where he realized he could travel back to key moments in his life by reading his journals. Every time he modified an event in his past to achieve a better future for himself, he discovered that the repercussions of his actions were far more intricate and catastrophic than he ever anticipated.

You groaned inwardly at the thought; you couldn’t let that happen.

That would be your biggest screw-up ever.

You began to panic, your mind racing as you made your way back to the exit, only to turn around and clash with someone.

“Careful, doll.” 

That voice, why did it sound so familiar to you? 

You looked up, heart pounding, and found yourself staring into the piercing steel-blue eyes of a much younger version of Bucky Barnes.

His gaze was soft, devoid of all the sorrow he had become familiar with these days, and the charming smile across his face contrasted sharply with the ever-present frown he wore now.

The Bucky Barnes you knew was nothing like the man who currently stood in front of you.

“Bucky?” You stammered, your lips moving before you could control them. 

Here it goes, the second mistake of the night.

Confusion washed over his face. “Do we know each other?”

Your brain short-circuited, searching for a plausible response.

“Um– I mean… Is there any single lady in Brooklyn who doesn’t know who Bucky Barnes is?” You said, forcing a hollow laugh from your mouth.

He chuckled lightly, and the sound shot a thrill through you. It was so rare to hear Bucky laugh, “Guess you have a point there. I’m hard to miss.”

You sighed internally, relieved that your somewhat picky line had worked. 

His hand was still resting on your shoulder, having caught you when you collided with him and kept you from falling. It felt warm and reassuring, in sharp contrast to the chaos in your mind. You couldn’t believe you were standing in front of a version of Bucky who wasn't burdened by the weight of years of HYDRA’s torment. 

A Bucky that was on the verge of becoming what he would inevitably turn out to be. 

“Uh, are you alright?” he inquired, tilting his head slightly, a hint of concern creasing his brow, and then it was then that you realized you had been staring at him for far too long, lost in contemplation.

You hurriedly averted your gaze, muttering, “Y-yeah, sorry.”

You tried to get by him and keep to your original plan of leaving the club. If letting Steve see you was a bad idea, talking to Bucky was far worse. But he gently grasped your upper arm as you were about to depart, turning your heels back to face him.

“C’mon, doll. You can’t leave me like that,” he said with a smile that never left his face. 

It was so odd to see him happy. Bucky rarely smiled these days, not that you could blame him given what he'd gone through. And now you couldn't get over how wonderfully beautiful he looked with a smile on his face.

“You owe me at least one dance.”

He offered his hand to you, and you knew you should have declined because it was a bad idea and may have long-term ramifications, but there was something about him that drew you in, even if reasoning told you to go. Your gaze darted between his outstretched hand and his boyish smile. 

“Just one dance?” 

“Just one,” he assured you, his voice smooth and soothing. “I promise.”

Your brain was shouting at you in every way conceivable, reminding you of the butterfly effect, the temporal paradox, and how just a few minutes before, you were attempting to flee to avoid any irreversible damage. 

However, you were not known for making sound decisions. 

Against your better judgment, you shut off your brain and placed your hand in his. His grip was firm as he guided you to the dance floor.

Here it goes, the third mistake of the night.

It was late when you walked into the hostel room, but Wanda was still up, perched on her bed like a mother waiting for her daughter to return from a late-night rendezvous. 

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

You bit your lower lip, a habit you developed when you were nervous. Wanda knew you like the palm of her hand, and one look at you told her something was up.

“What have you done?” Even though her voice sounded fatigued, it remained steady.

“I fucked up… again.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, the twitch of her lips betraying a hint of empathy despite the sternness in her expression. “You know that’s not an answer, right?” she asked, sitting up straighter and folding her arms. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

You took a seat on the bed opposite to hers, fiddling with your hands as you struggled to find the right words to recount your evening to your friend.

His hands were on your back, with yours wrapped around his shoulders. You swayed

to the slow melody the band was playing as the soft notes filled the air.

“So, you know my name, but I don’t think I got yours.”

Giving him your real name was definitely not the most sensible idea, but at this point, you might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb.

A smile formed on his lips as he tasted your name. “It suits you perfectly. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” 

His unabashed flirting made you chuckle. You’d heard the stories from Steve about Bucky’s amazing luck with the ladies. But now that you had that man in front of you, his hand wrapped around your waist and dancing so close to you, you could see why so many women fell for him.

He really had a game.

His gaze remained fixed on you as you continued to dance to the music. He tightened his grip on your back and leaned in to get closer to you.

“How is it that I have never seen you around before?”

“I’m just passing by,” you simply stated, not technically lying to him. You still held hope that your friends were working on a way to bring you back home.

“Does that mean I’m not gonna see you again?” His voice sounded disappointed.

You peered into his deep blue eyes and felt the warmth of his gaze pulling you in. "Well, that depends," you replied playfully, a smile teasing your lips.

"Depends on what?" He prompted, tilting his head slightly as if hoping to catch a peek of the thoughts swirling behind your eyes.

You waited a few seconds to respond, weighing your words carefully. “Depends on whether you can convince me that it’s worth seeing you again.” 

Bucky chuckled, a low, rich tone that sent shivers down your spine. "I see how it is. A challenge, huh? I like a challenge," he replied, his grip firm but gentle as he drew you in closer, his heart beating steadily against yours.

The band shifted into a new song, one with a faster tempo, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he led you around the dance floor, expertly weaving between couples.

“Oh, do you? Or do you just like collecting pretty faces for your scrapbook?”

Bucky laughed, genuinely. “If that were the case, I'd have a whole wall dedicated to you by now." His forehead almost touching yours. “But I’m more interested in the stories behind the faces. What makes you… you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you stared back at him. The world around you faded away, and for that fleeting moment in the dance hall, it was just the two of you.

“So, what’s the real reason you’re just passing through?”

The question lingered in the air, and you hesitated. “Let’s just say I’m taking a little detour from my usual routine.”

“A detour?” His eyebrows raised in playful skepticism, and he leaned in again to keep the moment private. “You mean to tell me a girl like you doesn’t have a regular hustle?”

“Sometimes life has a funny way of making you take unexpected paths,” you said, your voice steady but playful enough to deflect the question without losing his attention.

“You should stick around these paths a little longer,” he suggested. “I have a feeling, if you do, you'd find more than just a dance.”

You searched his gaze, feeling the weight of his words linger in your head. “What if I don’t?” You asked, a touch of a challenge lacing your tone.

“Then I’ll just have to make sure I make every second count.” 

He brought one of the hands that were resting on your back to your face and gently caressed your face. Cupping your jaw, he stared into your eyes, silently asking for permission to close the small distance between you. 

When you did nothing to stop him, he leaned in closer, his eyelids fluttering shut as his lips brushed against yours. Bucky's lips were warm and surprisingly soft, coaxing you into the moment. Time seemed to stand still, the music around you fading into a background hum, and it felt as though the entire world had zeroed in on just the two of you.

His fingers curled gently around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. You couldn’t help but smile against his lips. You wanted to hold onto this memory. This version of Bucky has only known you for a few hours, yet his kiss was more meaningful than any kiss you have experienced in past relationships. It was something you hadn’t realized you craved until now, so you let yourself get lost in the kiss.

And here it goes, the fourth mistake of the night.

“What the hell!” Wanda exclaimed your name, raising her voice at you. “Do you have any idea of what you have done?”

“I couldn’t help myself.” You ran your hand through your hair and exhaled sharply. “He was just—”

“Since when do you have feelings for Bucky?”

“I don’t!”

Wanda crossed her arms, her face one of incredulity and frustration. “Really? Because it sure doesn’t sound like it, and it certainly doesn’t look like it.”

“I swear, Wanda, it was just a moment!” You threw up your hands in exasperation. “A dance, a kiss… nothing more than that!”

You were not lying. You’d scarcely spoken to the man since Steve brought him to the compound. You knew nothing about him aside from the basic information that everyone else knew.

He was quiet, reticent, and brooding most of the time, with a heaviness that appeared to follow him like a shadow. He spent the majority of his time locked in his room. And the times he finally came out, he sought to remain out of everyone's way to avoid being a burden.

Wanda stepped closer, her green eyes narrowing as she studied your face for any signs of duplicity. “You don’t just dance and kiss someone like that. Especially not Bucky! You have no idea what that might signify in the future. Messing with the timeline like that... You really outdid yourself with this one."

“I didn't mean to! I didn’t plan it!” You ran your fingers through your hair again, pacing the small room. “You think I wanted to end up here, in the past, making a fool of myself over a guy I barely know?”

“It’s not just about you,” Wanda insisted. “What if he starts to feel something for you? What if he remembers this? You might end up erasing part of his past or—”

“Or what? It’s too late to take it back now,” you interrupted. "I know I screw up alright?"

Wanda’s shoulders fell slightly as she glanced at you, frustrated but concerned. “What did you do after you kissed him?”

You hesitated, the recollection returning in a maelstrom of emotions. “We just stood there for a moment, looking at each other. It felt like time stopped still.”

Wanda lifted an eyebrow, clearly still on edge. “And then?”

“And then I panicked!” You flung your hands up again, feeling the weight of the situation fall on you. “I wasn’t sure what to say! So I just… I pulled away and ran.”

[meowrimo]

˖˙ ꔫ — SPITFIRE ˚

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : you and kid have an unspoken understanding but of course you need to test his limits to see how he truly feels.

꒰ contents ꒱ : MDNI. eustass kid x reader ; unprotected sex, brat taming, possessive kid, creampie, slight dacryphilia, mentions of overstimulation, impact play if you squint — WC : 1.5k

Kid was brash, reckless and mouthed off to anyone who dared to step in his way. Never one to back down from a challenge no matter the odds, he was driven and hardworking in his own way. And when it came to you, it was no different.

The little arrangement between the two of you was nothing new. The crew was unfortunately well acquainted with it as well, always forced to listen to you guys bicker to no end. Insults would fly left and right until he was red in the face, irked beyond belief at the audacity you held against your captain.

Kid demanded respect but something in him would falter at treating you like the rest of the crew. Besides Killer, you were the only one to truly get away with speaking to him in such a way. But that’s because he soon learned a failsafe way to have you begging for forgiveness, apologizing to him and giving him the well-deserved admiration he sought out from you.

But tonight you had gone too far.

The Victoria Punk was docked at an island for the evening for a typical restock and of course, the crew ended up at the bar. The alcohol was pouring and Kid held his smug smirk on his face as you sat next to him, chatting away with Killer.

The crew had decided to poke fun at the way you were stealing glances at the captain, making bets on when the two of you would sneak off.

That’s when you decided to play a little game, skipping off to one of the patrons of the bar and tapping their shoulder, gaining their attention.

The attention that belonged to Kid.

But you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was prove that you weren’t stuck under Kid’s charm, that you weren’t falling for him no matter how hard you tried to resist him.

A resounding bang boomed off in the cramped bar, silencing the room and halting you from getting too close to brushing your lips with the stranger whose name you never bothered to learn.

“Hell no!” Kid roared, standing straight up. All of the contents on the table were knocked around after he had slammed his fist against the hardwood, a definite crack splitting down the middle. “Get your ass over here.”

“Is that an order, Captain?” The question that sealed your fate. Within moments, Kid has you within his grasp and leading you far away from the bar. His cheeks are almost as red as his hair but you know better, the flush was more from just the anger boiling up inside of him.

It was far too easy to let yourself fall victim to his sinful touches as soon as you returned back to his quarters. The familiar dip in his mattress cocooning you further into his hungry jaws, refusing to let you flee from his grasp. Not that you were planning on it anyway.

“What happened to my little spitfire?” Kid smirks, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix in a way that has stars bursting behind your eyes. The intensity was almost too much, the pressure of his heavy length splitting you open was enough to make you come. But it wouldn’t happen until he said so. “I give you a little bit of cock and suddenly you lose all that attitude?”

It takes you a second to come back down from the initial pain as he begins to move, a brutal pace that never gives you a chance to catch your breath, stealing all the words you wanted to throw back at him but the only thing you could move were your hips. Your legs shook from the intensity, the back of the headboard slamming against the wall but you don’t have it in you to care.

“Kid-” You gasp out, nails digging into the broadness of his lightly dusted freckled shoulders.

“No.” He hisses out, giving your thigh a teasing slap, not enough to hurt but enough to warn you of what’s to come if you don't fix your mood. “That’s not what you get to call me right now.”

“Captain!” You cry out, your legs falling helplessly to the mattress, unable to hold them up around his waist any longer. He kept plunging into you, eyes sharp on your expressions and waiting for you to continue. You knew what he wanted.

“What was that? You’re whining so much I can hardly hear ya, speak up.” His grip digs into you more, unable to get enough of the way your skin feels against his.

“‘M sorry!” The apology slurs past your love drunk lips, hoping that he’ll forgive you and let you come.

“Couldn’t be good for me and use your words so you decided to be a brat?” He pauses, shoving himself deep into you to watch you writhe underneath. “Just wanted me to fuck you till you couldn’t think?”

“Y-yes!” You concede yet you don’t have it in you to care. The way your thighs shake, hips jutting up to meet his thrusts, pleasure swirling in your head and washing over your body has you saying whatever he wants. “Let me come!”

“I don’t think so.” A low laugh escapes him, his cock throbbing within your walls and ready to fill you up. The thought of him finishing without you zaps through your head, frustrated tears brimming your lashes and threatening to spill over with every thrust. “Aw, pretty little cry baby. Let me see those tears and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

A pitiful cry of his name escapes you, bottom lip quivering as the pleasure is too much to hold back. All you needed was his deft fingers pressing down on your nub and it would spiral you over the edge and have you floating above the clouds in a heaven he could only bring you. The tears glide down your cheeks, pleas spilling out of your mouth.

The sadistic grin Kid wears on his face so well only grows, captivated by your beauty as you lose your sense of self for him. To unravel you down to your core until all you craved was him just to build you back up and worship you like the treasure you are.

“Let go f’me.” Kid commands with a grunt, his fingers finally touching you where you needed him most. His heavy thumb pressing down on your clit was all it took for your body to lock up, shake with unadulterated need and release in a way that sends you heavenward. “That’s it, so fucking good for me.”

Moments like these you lay back, trying to catch your bearings as Kid uses you to finish himself off, thrusting into you at a pace that pleases him until he’s spilling his load deep inside of you, grunting out your name until he’s just as breathless as you.

The room is quiet save for the heavy panting coming from you both. Like clockwork, Kid hoists you into his arms, holding you close until your heart's fall back into sync and beat as one, planting soft kisses along your temple. There were never any words to say at this moment, just letting your bodies fall into a gentle rhythm together.

After a while, and the both of you settle back from your lofty state, he shifts slightly to face you. There’s a gentleness in his touch, one that is hard to miss as his knuckle sweetly kisses along your cheek. A caress so soft yet leaves a haunting ghost in its wake as soon as he pulls away.

“Back with me?” He asks, the roughness in his voice a comfort that has you curling closer to him. His lone arm coiled around you, letting you melt into his embrace. The closeness was not something that was always here, it’s something that had built overtime.

A foundation of trust and vulnerability that formed something so sacred that neither of you ever spoke about it – too stubborn to let the walls in your heart fall down before the other and truly lay everything bare.

“I’m here.” You nod, resting your cheek against his built chest. The steady comfort of his heartbeat lulled you into a drowsy state. The weight of exhaustion starts to settle into your bones, limbs tired from the way Kid never failed to manhandle you.

You knew you had to get up, clean yourself off and scurry back to your own bed. But it was just so cozy, so intimate that if you moved then everything might shatter and this time you may not be able to pull it back together.

Despite it all, you couldn’t fight sleep. Kid be damned, he can yell at you tomorrow for overstaying your welcome or hell, he can carry you back to bed like a true gentleman would. Not that you’d get your hopes up.

As your eyes flutter shut, fingers curling into his muscles, you hear the word that you’d never expect but the one you longed to hear.

“Stay.”

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡Sketches 🎨

You've ordered: a fizzy plum soda w/ mint! enjoy!

"Painter, baby, you could be the muse" ("Sure Thing" by Miguel)

Gregory Violet x reader | word count: 597 words

Summary: gregory seems to have a new muse :) 🎨

Warnings: none! just fluff <3

Note: he's literally so cute, i love him pls- 💜 might be ooc, idk, i tried

You sat in the art room with Gregory, lightly chatting with him as he sketched away. You kept trying to sneak glances at what he was working on, only to be stopped as he clutched the leather bound sketchbook to his chest, an almost unreadable expression on his face as he'd shake his head.

"Come on, Gregory! Please let me see what you're drawing. Pleaseeeeee?" you begged, your boyfriend rolling his eyes as he shook his head once again.

"No, it's not done." he said the same thing the last time you asked and the time before that. You frowned, laying down and resting your head in his lap (you two were sitting on the floor).

You could see his concentration break a little as a tinge of pink dusted over his cheeks, his eyes glancing down at you for a split second before he went back to drawing. So you decided to patiently wait, rather than continuing to pester him about it.

"Gregory, would you ever draw me?" you asked, messing around with the rings on your fingers.

Gregory stopped mid pencil stroke and glanced down at you, your eyes meeting his.

"Depends..." he muttered, his two toned hair falling in his eyes a bit.

"On what?" you asked, reaching your hand up to move the black and white wisps away from his violet eyes before letting it settle on his cheek.

Gregory was obviously affected by your actions, his cheeks warm to the touch. Gregory didn't answer and instead, placed his sketchbook down. He gently held your hand that rested on his cheek and kissed the inside of your palm, your heart skipping a beat.

"You really want to see what I've been drawing?" he mumbled into your hand, your head nodding.

He let go of your hand and picked up his sketchbook again, flipping to the page he'd been working on for what seemed like hours.

"Here..." you took it, your fingertips brushing against his for a moment. When you turned it right side up, you felt like your heart would burst. On the page was a drawing....of you.

You were smiling brightly, your eyes half closed as a result. He'd done an amazing job capturing the likeness of your face, it was as if you were looking at a photograph.

"Gregory....this is beautiful..." you muttered, still surprised by the drawing.

"I was going to give it to you on your birthday, but since you were so eager to see it-" you mentally slapped yourself as he said that, realizing you'd ruined his surprise.

"This was going to be my birthday gift? Oh...I-I'm sorry I ruined the surprise...." you hung your head, feeling bad that your impatience got the best of you.

You felt gregory place a hand on your shoulder, telling you to look up at him. And when you did, he cupped your cheek, just like you'd done to him. You knew he wasn't very keen on physical affection, but he was slowly getting used to it.

"Don't beat yourself up over it. I can always make you a new one." he reassured you, a small smile on his lips.

You wrapped your arms around him in a hug, catching him a bit off guard. But he still hugged you back, gently holding you as you two sat on the floor of the art room.

"You're the best partner I could ever ask for." you hummed and gregory felt his heart warm up. He really did love you a lot, more than he could say. "I'm glad my sketch made your day." 🎨

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[gretavanmoon]

The Rhythm Section - Part 1

(Re-release!)

Sam x female Reader, Danny x female Reader (yeah…yep)

6.9k words

rhythm sec·tion /ˈriT͟Həm ˈsekSHən/ - the part of a pop or jazz group supplying the rhythm, generally regarded as consisting of bass and drums

+ Heyyy bestie lane! I wrote this waaaay back in 2022, right when I would still consider myself a novice at smut LOL. But I think it deserves its time in the sun again for all the new folks on Tumblr, so I dusted it off and shined it up a bit. It's lightly edited, so have fun with that :P

+ Warnings: 18+! Cursing, Drinking, Smoky Bar Scene, Mental Dilemma, Dirty Dancing I guess

Smut: Unclean Thoughts, Memories & Flashbacks, Heavy Flirting/Touching, Insinuation and Mention of a Threesome

ONE - CHANCE ENCOUNTER

You were tired. Your muscles were beyond sore. And you absolutely did not feel like answering the buzzing phone that was inching its way closer and closer to the edge of your night stand. You wanted to ignore it and focus back in on the brain-rot TV show you were enjoying, but it's insistence made you realize you simply had to pick it up.

Your life had been pretty drag for the past few weeks, and work left little to no room for personal enjoyment. The buzzing phone gave you a tiny inkling of surprise and excitement, thinking maybe a friend was calling to give you some entertainment for the night.

The most excitement you'd had lately was a run-in with an ex-flame, Sam, at a bar you frequented. He’d spotted you from across the room, making eyes at you for only a split second before breaking away from the group of friends he was with to come over your way.

“Y/N? Hey… I thought that was you over here,” he said as he slipped between you and the empty barstool beside you. “How are you? How have you been?”

His eyes seemed to dazzle you just the same as they always had, and the feeling of his hand rested respectfully on your shoulder seemed to catch you more off guard than you thought it would. The smell of his earthy cologne instantly overtook your entire being, his scent tied to memories so strong that you felt dizzy. 

“Sam, hey… I’m good! How are you, what are you doing here?”

He took the stool beside you, and the two of you spent the next hour or so catching up and talking about life. Sharing stories, laughing into your drinks, and ignoring the fact that the magnetism the two of you always shared was still very much intact, and very much overwhelming. You’d both chosen to come out late that night, and the bartender was calling last call before you could even register that it was after midnight.

You had to admit, even though it was only a chance encounter, you felt sparks as his hand brushed against yours when he insisted on paying the bar tab at the exact same time that you did. You ended up giving in and letting him pay for your three gin & tonics, and he also insisted on walking you home.

“You really don’t have to, Sam. It’s not very far to my apartment,” you had said, glancing at your watch.

“I know it’s not far but you’re still a gorgeous young lady walking the street by herself at night,” he pushed, wiggling his eyebrows as he flirted.

The scoff that left your lips was unintentional. “That’s never stopped me before, Sam. How do you think I get home every other night?” you questioned, feeling somewhat offended that he thought you couldn’t defend yourself. “Plus, you never even went back over to your friends…”

The deep brown of his irises flashed your way, giving you a look you knew so incredibly well that it nearly shook you to your core.

“Just let me. Please?” You knew he wasn’t going to let up. “So I can go to sleep without worrying about you...”

“Alright, but just to the door,” you finally gave in, giving him a furtive grin.

“Just to the door.”

The two of you walked slowly down the street to your apartment, which was only about six blocks away. 

“I can’t believe it’s been over a year since I’ve seen you, Y/N,” Sam had said. “We used to have some good times,” he reminisced, putting his head down and shoving his hands in his pockets as you walked down the uncrowded street. 

Though it was a short-lived affair, you and Sam used to sleep together fairly regularly when he would be in town. Things never got serious, but you had fun. It was more of a booty-call type relationship, which was fine with you. You were busy with school and work, and you didn’t have time to settle down, anyway. The sex was great, the two of you melded together quickly and learned the ins and outs of each other’s tastes more thoroughly than you had with any other partner you’d had in the past. 

“Yeah, we did have some good times, didn’t we? I’ve missed you and your ‘Busy tonight?’ texts,” you laughed, the gin still swirling through your system. 

Sam grabbed the back of his neck and began massaging his shoulder as he let out an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, I miss sending those texts, to be honest. I can’t believe you don’t have someone in your life...” You had explained to him earlier at the bar that you were extremely single still, concentrating on life. Your career as an RN was a bit taxing, as you worked in a hospital that concentrated on rehabilitation of injured patients. You found yourself tired, mentally and physically, at the end of every single day. 

“Yeah, I don’t have much time to give to another person, so I’m still just hanging out,” you gave Sam a sheepish smile as you wanted to gush about your current life, but still felt a bit disconnected from him. It had been over a year since you’d even seen him.

The warm Spring breeze blew your hair into your face, pulling a few pieces of hair across your eyes. He slowly reached up and pushed the strands behind your ear, leaving his hand rested on your cheek for a few seconds while you caught each other's gazes. 

“I know. Always-busy-Y/N, giving more time to work than to herself," he'd complained, still having you figured out all too well. "Well, if you ever want to…relax...you know where to find me. We’re home for a month or so until we have to go back out on the road,” he spoke low and graveled, that certain key of his voice pulling you back into him just like it always did.

“Hm,” you muttered, your skin on fire just from the proximity. “That’s a nice long break.”

Though you hardly noticed it at the time, Sam’s eyes were trained on you in a way that they never had been before. Long, sultry, and slow, he raked them across your body as if it was the first time they’d ever seen you.

“Sure is. Plenty of time for some R&R…” Not only were his eyes dragging, but his words were, too. They were suggestive and insinuative, leaving hardly any room for you to say no in the instance that he’d ask you to "meet up" again. 

He was biting his bottom lip in as the breeze picked up into a rushed wind, the air becoming heavier as you felt tiny specks of rain beginning to collect on your arms. You couldn’t stop your wandering gaze from reconnecting with his, catching his eyes as they drank you in. God, he’s still just as beautiful... 

You collected your thoughts, pulling him into a fast goodbye hug before the rain picked up for good. “Thanks for walking me home, Sammy. I really appreciate it.”

Though you wanted the embrace to be short lived, he had other plans, taking your body into a full-fledged hug as he pressed his body into yours, resting his chin on top of your head. “You’re welcome, gorgeous. See you later?” And like his question was meant to be rhetorical, he turned around and rounded the corner, disappearing before you even had the chance to answer him.

+

That was two nights ago, and now you found yourself staring at your buzzing phone on the nightstand. The clock read 9:14pm, and of course, it was a string of texts from Sam. You scoffed as you rubbed your tired eyes and picked up the phone.

Maybe: Sam

Hey gorgeous! 

It’s Sam, still have my number?

You’d never tell him that you deleted his number after you realized it was of no use for you anymore.

What are you up to this evening? Daniel and I were thinking about grabbing a drink if you’d like to join!

You sighed and slammed your phone onto the mattress. You liked Sam. You really did. But it had been so long since your flings were regular, and you had grown up a lot in the past year. Between getting a new apartment, getting a promotion at work, and starting school again to get your BSN, you truly had let your past with Sam slip into the very back rooms of your mind. You had loved focusing on yourself and your career, and you had to admit, you were proud of yourself. You also hadn’t had many men grace your mattress since Sam... a one night stand here and there, but nothing of substance. You only found yourself thinking of Sam every once in a while, when you’d hear a song by Cat Stevens.

Or when you took a walk alone and would catch yourself wanting to send him a photo of a pretty flower you found. 

Or when you’d light candles around your apartment to wind down after a long day…

Or when you had too much to drink and found yourself lonely and succumbing to the overwhelming need for the touch of your own hand…

But only sometimes. Sam was busy with the band now, and you thought he had long forgotten about you. They had released their second full length album not long ago, and after its success, they had left on a giant tour and stayed busy with shows and the like. You were so very proud of him for following in the footsteps of his brothers and traveling the world with them and his best friend, making the music they loved for their loyal fans. Sam was so talented, you always told him you secretly thought he was holding his talents back and that he could apply so much more to the band. He never disagreed, but you could tell that he always insinuated a maybe someday, but not right now attitude. And you respected him for that. 

After adding his number back into your phone, you paused and held it against your forehead before deciding to reply to the text. You did have tomorrow off, and after the long week you’d had, you could really use a drink. 

You:

Hey Sammy, not much just relaxing at home. I guess I could meet you guys out for a bit, where are you headed?

Almost immediately, you saw his text bubble pop up to tell you he was typing. 

Sam:

I think Daniel said he wanted to go to Sloan’s, if that’s cool with you?

Sloan’s was actually your favorite spot, better than the place you’d happened to run into Sam two nights prior. It was an old dive bar down a backstreet, sort of tucked away, fairly small and uncrowded, but was always full of folks out to let loose. 

You:

Sloan’s is perfect. I’ll see you in a few! 

You sat up in bed and stretched before  making your way to your closet to change into something a little more presentable. A light sweater with a short velvet skirt and thigh high boots seemed a little much for the smoky sticky dive bar, but  it had been some time since you let yourself wear something other than scrubs or a pair of old jeans.

After spraying some volumizer in your hair and freshening up your makeup, you reached into your cabinet full of perfumes. The options were endless, but your eyes landed on an older bottle that had been pushed toward the back, a forest green bottle with a golden lid. It used to be your absolute favorite a year or so ago, and if you had the timing right, it’s probably the exact scent you wore when your rendezvous with Sam first began.

After two spritzes and applying some to your neck behind your ears, you caught the scent that drove your memory back in time, just like Sam’s cologne had done a couple of nights ago: You and Sam, no clothes, pouring rain outside, sitting in the backseat of your car together with arms intertwined around each other’s bodies in one of the steamiest encounters you’d ever had.

“You smell like honeysuckles and rain,” he had said, his voice breathless as his lips ghosted across your ear.

The memory was as fleeting as the smell of your perfume on your nose. You forced the memory away and finished getting ready, grabbing your purse to head downstairs and to the bar. 

Somehow, you had gotten there before Sam or Danny. You found a seat at the nearly empty bar and the bartender immediately greeted you. 

“Evening darlin, the regular?” Sloan asked. 

“You know me well, Sloan, yes please. Can you make it a double?”

Sloan, the sixty-something owner of the bar who was rough around the edges but had a heart of gold, shot you a questioning look.

“Rough day at the hospital?” she asked as she reached for a taller glass.

“Eh, not really. Just feel like I’m going to need it tonight,” you replied, dodging her glare. You’d been frequenting her watering hole for long enough that she knew enough about you to treat you somewhat like a family member… always looking out for you and even being your wingwoman on a few occasions. She shrugged her shoulders and handed you your drink, with extra limes. 

You looked toward the small stage in the corner of the bar and saw that a band was setting up their instruments for the evening. 

“Who’s playing tonight?” you asked Sloan as you sipped the first of your strong drink.

“Group called Spill, booked them about six months ago. They’re actually fairly hard to get ahold of, really coming up on the scene, so I hear. They did me a favor playin’ somewhere small like this…” she explained as she pressed glasses down onto the brush in the sink. 

You nodded in understanding, becoming fairly excited that Sam chose tonight, and Daniel chose this bar. 

Before long, the band began jamming a little bit to check their sound. They sounded sweet, kind of jazzy, kind of r&b. Then, a gentleman walked in toting an instrument case.

“Sorry I’m late fellas, got a little tied up with the lady,” the man joked with his bandmates. They met him with high fives and handshakes, patting him on the back like they hadn’t seen each other in ages. He then pulled out a saxophone from his case and began hooking it into all the respective cords and wiring. 

You’d been there about 20 minutes just enjoying the peace of the environment when your phone buzzed with a text from Sam.

Sam:

Almost there! Sorry, our meeting ran long.

You quickly replied,

No biggie! It’s starting to fill up, there’s a band tonight.  See you soon.

Not long after, Sam and Danny were greeting you with ‘hello beautiful’s and hugs all around. They took barstools on either side of you, and Sam signaled Sloan down to your end of the bar. 

“Ready for another, love?” Sam asked you.

“Sure, same thing please, ma’am,” you told Sloan. 

She brought your drinks, and the bar was filling up significantly now. The band had started to warm up a bit more, and you were loving catching up with Sam and Danny and hearing all their wild tour stories. You hadn’t seen Danny in a long time, probably since before you’d seen Sam last. You did notice his hair was longer and his stature had become significantly more muscular. But his personality was generally the same…still his same old genuine self. 

“Wow, you guys are really full on rockstars now. How cool am I to be hanging out with you right now?” you joked and poked Danny in the side. 

“We aren’t THAT famous, do you see people flocking to us for autographs right now? No, you don’t,” Sam retorted with sass. The alcohol had caused his eyelids to hood just a bit, and his words had started to just slightly slur. The band picked up and was playing at full volume now, letting their jazzy melodies reverberate off the old wooden walls of the building. People had begun to gather on the small makeshift space in front of the stage, using it as a dance floor. 

“These guys are pretty good, I’m digging the sax sounds,” you said. The lead singer was filling the room with his deep and raspy voice that floated over the sounds of the keyboard and complemented the saxophone perfectly. The band looked and sounded as though they had been playing together for many years. 

“Yeah, they kick ass,” Danny exhaled and looked at you sideways, giving you a displeased expression. 

“What?” you asked him, noticing Sam had become quiet, too. “What’s wrong?”

“Nah, nothing’s wrong at all, huh Daniel?” Sam jested as he peered over the top of his glass. “Wrong isn’t in our vocabulary tonight.”

“Mhm,” Danny hummed, scrunching up his lips. “That word is hereby banned, tonight, ok?”

You winced in slight confusion, wondering why it mattered. “Banned? So, I can’t like…say it—“

“Nope!” Danny confirmed loudly, leaning into you. “You can’t. But, its counterpart… that word, is allowed.” His voice was deep as he leaned into your bubble, his eyes glaring deeply into yours. “You know what that word is, Y/N?”

You swallowed, taken aback as you tried to make sense of the strange turn in conversation. “Uh, right?”

Danny’s palm slapped the bar in front of him, startling you a little as you heard Sam giggle from your other side. “Right! Right is the word. Everything tonight…will be, right.”

You couldn’t help the expression that painted your face as you tried to put the pieces together, wondering what the fuck Danny could be talking about. You glanced to Sam as he gave you a reassuring look and nod that said ‘just go with it’.

“We actually have a little confession, Y/N,” Danny spoke up again, his voice laced with faux guilt.

You swallowed the large drink you’d taken and looked over to Danny with questioning eyes. “Confession?”

Sam twisted in his seat, turning to face the stage as he leaned in close to your ear. “We kind of wanted to come and scope this band out to see if they’d like to tour with us a little bit on this next leg, and open a few shows for us,” he admitted. “We’ve all been listening to them for a while, they have a few EP’s out and everyone agrees they would sound great being openers.”

Your eyes grew wide with surprise.

“No way, that is SO cool! I am 100% in agreement with you guys asking them. They truly sound amazing in this little bar, I can only imagine what they’d sound like in a real show setting,” you babbled in excited succession. The boys nodded in agreement. 

“That’s kinda why our meeting ran late, they gave us the OK to move forward if we agree,” Sam added. 

You fell into disbelief again. “Wow, they’re gonna be over the moon,” you breathed as you looked to the band again, a mix of older and younger gentlemen who seemed to fall right into their music, moving from one song to the next with ease. They were true entertainers. 

The night was going on splendidly, and you found yourself getting more fuzzy from the alcohol. You also caught Sam stealing glances at you overtop of his glass, to which you would return with a smile and a wink. 

On top of the passing glances, he began subtly adding a hand to your thigh, an occasional “Remember that one time” story, and a “Daniel, doesn’t the lady look lovely tonight?” You’d roll your eyes at his attempts, knowing all too well the routes Sam would take to get you back to your apartment with a quickness. 

After a while, the three of you decided to move from the bar to an open corner table to get away from the direct sound of the band, and so they could hear them from all angles. You’d lost count of how many drinks you’d had, but you had noticed that Sloan had discontinued making them doubles, and lightened her hand while pouring the gin, of which you were very thankful. She had also begun to hand you a glass of water with each new drink you ordered. You made a mental note to tip her well tonight. 

After about an hour of talking amongst yourselves, the band announced they were going to take a short break, and Sam and Daniel both stood simultaneously announcing, “Time to take care of business!” You watched as they made their way over to them, shook their hands and introduced themselves. Sam then handed them a few business cards, and you were impressed with the looks of astonishment on the band members’ faces when they put two and two together, and realized who they were talking to and what they were being asked. Again, Sam and Daniel took the time to have short conversation, and shake each members’ hands once again. 

They began to make their way back over to the table, smiles plastered across their faces. You watched as the band all looked at each other in disbelief, and then all celebrated with a collective hug and excited hops and jumps around the stage. Giant smiles adorned all of their faces, some even hugged one another. A few gentlemen in the band were significantly older than Sam and Danny, but were excited nonetheless. You beamed with pride as they returned to their seats at the table.

“If I didn’t know any better, I think you guys just made their night,’ you said as you squeezed a lime into your drink.

Sam replied, rubbing his hands through his hair, “Yeah, I mean I think we were more nervous than they were! We’ve been watching and listening to them in bars since before we could legally drink. Our dad introduced us to them years ago when he played a benefit show with them. He went to high school with the drummer.” 

You sat smiling at your two friends and you realized how amazing they were as humans, taking time to make genuine relationships with people they hardly knew, and trying even harder to maintain relationships that already exist. You watched as they began to bounce ideas off one another and watch the band as they began to pick back up again. Pride filled your belly as you were overwhelmed with joy to be there with them tonight, watching them as they organically grew their professional careers while also trying to help out the little guys. 

“S’why don’t you have a boyfriend, Y/N?” Danny asked from across the small, round table. “And don’t tell me it’s because you don’t wanna be tied down…”

Your eyebrows shot up as you realized he hit the nail on the head. “Actually uh, that’s exactly why I don’t. I like my freedom…” you admit, folding your arms on the table. 

You heard Sam scoff from beside you. “Heard that one before…” he groaned, turning away. His sudden negative tone hit you in the chest. 

Danny noticed, too, but turned the conversation back to you. “Freedom, huh? I get that.” He sipped from the neck of his beer, swirling the last of its contents before tipping the rest back. “That why you wouldn’t ever make things official with Sam?”

You choked on nothing while Sam choked on the liquor he was swallowing. “Daniel! Shit…” Sam gritted as he repositioned himself awkwardly in his seat. You felt your face flush. 

“Um, for your information, Danny…he uh. He actually never asked…” The words escaped you before you could even think them through, and though they were the truth, you couldn’t help but feel resentment for speaking them. Of course he never asked. All you did was preach to him how much you loved being alone, and how you were too busy to commit to anything serious. You made it well known that you wanted to stay single, sleeping with Sam whenever you both saw fit without ever making a true commitment to the relationship. 

Of course he never asked. 

A quick glance to Sam’s downtrodden expression set that feeling in stone. You knew he wanted more back then, but you were too focused on yourself and unwilling to let yourself feel any kind of happiness that he may have brought to the table, simply for the fact that you’d rather keep things this way than ruin your own life with heartbreak. You were selfish, and you knew it. 

“Would you have said yes? If he’d have asked?” Danny pressed. 

“Daniel, can you shut the fuck up, please? Y/N, I didn’t ask him to—“

“Maybe,” you answered quickly. “Maybe not.”

“But you miss him, though?” Danny went on, much to Sam’s disapproval. “You guys obviously had chemistry, I mean, I remember how happy you’d both get when—“

“Daniel. Stop.” Sam interrupted him with force, his tone serious. "She doesn't want to talk about this. And honestly, neither do I."

You rolled your lips between your teeth, contemplating on how to save this now quite awkward situation. “Of course I miss him. We had… some excellent times, didn’t we Sammy?” you asked rhetorically, turning and focusing all your attention back onto a red-faced Sam. You placed your hand on his thigh and took notice that his arm was still balanced on the back of your chair. You could almost feel the muscles in his leg tense at your touch. 

“We did…” he quietly replied, letting his eyelashes flutter as he grinned sweetly at you. 

Just then the band started playing a very upbeat song that had a funky disco vibe to it, and suddenly Danny was reaching across the table, placing both of his hands on your face. “Please dance with me?” he asked, yelling over the music. Before you could answer, he was pulling you toward the dance floor, walking backwards slowly and not caring who he bumped into. His eyes were glued to yours, and he was mouthing the words along with the song. 

When you finally made it to the dance floor, he spun you around a few times before pulling you close and placing one hand on your lower back. His other hand held yours out to your side. Dancing had always been your most favorite thing, and it was rare that you found a partner who could keep up and move on-beat with the song, at all. Danny was a bit taller than you, but the way he effortlessly tossed you around the floor while keeping his feet and hips perfectly in time with the song had you floating, mentally and physically. He incorporated footwork and slides, spins and even dipped you low a few times. You were extremely impressed with his dancing skills and his ability to lead you without even having to try.  

“Daniel! Why didn’t you tell me you could dance?!” you demanded of him loudly overtop of the music. He continued to spin you around again before pulling you in close. He bent down slightly and pressed his mouth  to your ear, the touch sending an unexpected shockwave through your system. 

“What made you think I couldn’t dance? It’s literally my job to have rhythm,” he responded before pulling back and raising his eyebrows at you as if to say, ‘duh’. The more you considered it, the more it made total sense. His whole body had to keep time for hours on end as he played the drums, making sure the entire band was in check with what was happening during shows. 

You looked over to the table to find Sam still seated, relaxed back in his chair with his arms crossed, a wide smile across his face as he watched the two of you dance. You looked back to Danny who was returning your stare with the most intense look in his eyes. The neon lights mixed with the small disco ball was making his already dark complected skin glow an almost red, and his long, dark curls were pulled back into a low bun, making the small strands that had fallen around his face look even more sultry. He smiled coyly, showing off his bright white smile.

Suddenly he pulled your arms up around his neck and wrapped his arms around your waist, forcing you into a tighter squeeze than while you were dancing. He fluttered his eyelashes into a long blink before opening them again. He began a slow, sensual swaying back and forth that now matched the slower bluesy song the band had switched to. 

He leaned in to your ear once again, pausing for a quick breath before he spoke. “You know he really likes you, right?” He pulled back and smiled, waiting for your answer with his hands still balanced on your waist. 

You looked at him sarcastically. “I mean, I could have guessed that, I think…” you responded, trying to off-play it as he brought the awkward situation back again. 

Danny bit his lips to fight off an accusatory smile. 

You tucked your hair behind your ear as you avoided his gaze. “I mean, I kind of thought we just…had fun together, you know? Neither of us ever had time for anything serious…”

“Yeah yeah, solid excuse. I’m sure that’s how it started out for him, too. But here lately, I think he’s started to miss you for more than just, having fun…” he trailed off. You glanced over to Sam again. He sat in the same chair, now leaning down with his elbows on his knees, sipping on his drink. He had rolled the sleeves of his button up to his elbows, flexing the muscles in his arms a bit. 

When he saw you looking, he took his free hand and finger-combed his shoulder-length hair back, never breaking eye contact. Then in a whirlwind, Danny had you up in the air, spinning you around with the song. He lifted you slightly so you were looking down at him, catching you off guard as your feet dangled over the floor. 

He lowered you back down slowly, suspending you in the air as you descended. Before your feet could hit the floor, he made sure his face was within inches of yours, your lips daring themselves to brush against his. Suddenly the proximity felt wrong, with Sam watching your every move. “Danny, I—“

He pulled away a little, his eyes bouncing Sam’s way for just a second before he returned all his attention to you. You had your hands still balanced on his arms, and he felt sturdy and strong below your now loosened muscles. He pulled you in close, and began to sway along to the music once more. 

What is happening? What is this? You know he is doing all of this on purpose, but why? 

As he moved closer on the crowded dance floor, you could feel him under his pants, grinding into you in all the right places. He pulled your arms up around his neck again, catching you completely off guard as you began to succumb to the response your body was giving him. He put his lips to your ear, and placed a long and slow kiss right onto it, feeling little to no shame in his action.

He was breathing slowly, and you felt your whole body go warm with a tingling sensation. He started placing small kisses onto your ear and behind it, pushing your hair away from your neck as he did so. You wanted to pull away at the risk of Sam seeing it all, but something held you there, in complete bliss at the feeling of Danny’s mouth on you. You physically felt your eyes roll back and close, and you felt that warm and familiar tinge in your stomach and core, one that you weren’t sure what to do with, but you also didn’t want to go away.

“He won’t be mad, don’t worry,” he growled. 

“A-are you sure about that?” you laughed awkwardly, catching sight of Sam still seated in your peripheral. 

“Positive…” Suddenly his hands tightened around the muscles of your hips. “Y/N, do you know what the rhythm section is?” You closed your eyes as he spoke quietly but directly into your ear.

You raised your eyebrows in question as you pulled away for a second, telling Danny to go on. 

“It's the section of a band completely separate from the rest, but you’d never know it when you watch us perform. It’s our job to keep the pulse of the music going,” Danny continued to pull firmly on your love handles, slowly moving his hands to your lower back and back to your waist. He was pressing his fingertips gently into you, making the ambience of the room all the more heavy.

You felt extremely and overwhelmingly turned on, in more ways than one. This felt so wrong on so many levels… he shouldn’t be doing this, especially in front of Sam…

But there is that forbidden word… wrong. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from loving it, from letting it happen. There was something about the feeling of Danny’s hands on you, how they traveled, how they decided your next move for you, guiding you in the direction that he wanted you to go. 

In a moment of confidence, or better yet, weakness, you turned your head to the side a bit, exposing your neck. Danny took advantage of the angle, laying his lips right overtop of your carotid artery. He began lightly plucking at your pulse with his lips, exactly on beat with each hit of the kick drum. He continued to sway with the harmony of the singing and guitar, but his lips were moving in exact congruence with the deeper, underlying sound of the bass and drums. 

He crept back up to your ear. “See? It’s all about multitasking, knowing exactly what the song needs to sound like and being perfectly in time with the other half of my section, which in our case is Sam’s bass. We’ve got to be able to do it all. Hear it all. Feel it all...”

Danny pulled you slowly to the edge of the dance floor closest to your table. He turned with his back to Sam, so that you could look over his shoulder and right at Sam, who was already boring his eyes directly into yours. Danny pulled you close again and the song moved into a sultry, saxophone ballad with heavy melodies and tempo switches. 

…But you kept eye contact with Sam. Danny leaned in close to speak again, his voice painfully gritted. “You see sweetheart, without Sam and I, the band would have no back bone. We are great musicians apart, but when you put us together, we anchor everything down, naturally. We build a framework for all the other frilly shit to build on top of. Strong, the both of us, but not nearly as enticing without the other.”

The whole time, Danny never stopped his hips swinging in unison with yours, hugging firmly with his half-hard dick grinding into your core. “We learned a long time ago that we’re better together, and once we find our rhythm, that’s where the magic happens.” As if he could hear the words, Sam suddenly smiled a devilish smile from across the room, and took another long sip of his drink. 

You pulled back from Danny and looked him right in the eyes, questioning his motives, wondering if Sam knew what he had said to you. You could haul off and slap him, but the look in Danny’s eyes was hungry and confident. He brought his lips together and bit them both, now returning your questioning look. You dropped your arms from around his neck, and quickly made your way back to your table. 

Your mind was buzzing with confusion… wild, dirty thoughts had begun swimming through your mind as it made all of the connections on its own. Suddenly it all made sense. Suddenly the puzzle was complete in front of you, and honestly, you were pissed at them for it. Pissed that they even thought this could be a reality, but even more pissed that it felt… good. The sensation of Danny’s hands on you while Sam watched…fuck. It felt too tempting. It felt too… right. The one word that Danny gave you permission to use, tonight. Of course. 

Two wrongs. 

You stood in front of Sam, looking down at him without saying a word. The only response he gave you was a cheeky grin followed by a glance and a head tilt toward the door. You folded your arms across your chest, and felt Danny join you in standing before Sam.

The three of you shared a wordless nod. “Alright. Ok,” you spoke quickly and firmly, surprised at your own quick decision to go along with their outlandish request. Your body was absolutely burning already. For Daniel? For Sam, for them both…

Fuck, you’re drunk. But not that drunk. And still yet, this decision feels… the opposite of wrong. 

You know what? Fuck it. You deserve this. Is it outside of your comfort zone? Astronomically so. And you'll probably have regrets in the morning. But you know them, and you know they'd never do anything to make you uncomfortable. And who knows? Maybe it won't even happen once you get home and reality sets in.

You grabbed your purse that was hanging on the back of Sam’s chair and turned on your heels to beeline to the door. On the way out, Sam threw a hundred on the bar and told Sloan to keep the change. The guys shared waves to the band, as if to say “talk soon”. 

The three of you were quietly booking it down the street toward your apartment, with you keeping the pace three or four steps ahead of them. Your mind was racing with drunken thoughts, but you were still sober enough to realize what you were doing, what you were about to do. You hardly ever bring one man back to your home, let alone two. God, what the fuck?! 

You contemplated turning around, stopping them in their tracks, and ordering them to go back home. But something kept your feet walking, and if you had to guess, it was the feeling of Danny’s lips still attached to your neck, and the look in Sam’s eye when he wordlessly nodded toward the door.

You made it to the front doors of your building, and you reached into your purse for your key card. The doors unlocked, and you made your way to the elevator. After an awkward 20 seconds of waiting, the three of you stepped inside, and you pushed the button for floor 13.

They stood in the back of the elevator, and you to the front by the doors. You kept your back to them until the doors closed. As soon as they latched and the elevator began its ascent, you turned around quickly to find them both staring you down with devious expressions. Danny stood with his arms crossed and head rested back on the wall, eyeing you seductively. Sam was leaning with one arm on the back wall, and the other was twirling his mustache, also looking at you with those stupid familiar needy eyes. Stupid, stupid.

“Is this real? Are you guys playing a joke on me?” you finally asked in a pressing manner.

Neither one spoke, but instead shook their heads saying ‘no’, at the almost exact same. Sam said quietly, finally, “Not a joke, love.” 

Suddenly the elevator stopped on your floor. You waited for the doors to open behind you, and made your way over to your front door. As you began fumbling for your keys, your fingers became numb, like they had completely forgotten how to work. Here come the nerves. You finally opened the door, and held your arm out to invite them in first. They awkwardly, but confidently walked into your living room, clearing their throats as they made entry. You rushed and grabbed a bottle of vodka from on top of your refrigerator, and three glasses from the pantry. You set them down forcefully on the kitchen island as they finally gathered in. “Make us something strong. I’ll be right back.” 

You sauntered off to the bathroom to gather your thoughts as quickly as you possibly could. You shut the door behind you and leaned on the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror. ‘What the hell is happening?’ you thought. 

You lightly slapped yourself on the face a few times, willing yourself to get a grip. You were way out of your comfort zone, but for some reason, you felt completely safe and confident. And not to mention still extremely turned on. The alcohol was beginning to wear off a bit due to the influx of adrenaline of the realization that you just brought two men home with you, but you were counting on the vodka to bring that air of confidence back. You knew you were going to need it. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror again. “Just fucking do it, stupid. You’re a grown adult,” you whispered to yourself, reminding yourself that you really did need this, and honestly, had thought about this situation a time or two before. You took a deep breath and shook out your nerves, blinking away the dryness of your eyes as you tried to calm yourself. You sat down to pee, and freshened yourself up a bit, silently thanking your past self for shaving everything earlier in the day.

After you were sufficiently cleaned up, you nervously returned to the kitchen to find Sam and Danny standing at the island with three drinks made. Sam spoke up first. “Y/N, you know you can trust me. We don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Danny continued, “Right, and we’ll turn around and leave right now if that’s what you want us to do. Just say the word.”

You stood with your arms crossed across your chest, pondering the two of them intensely. You picked up your drink and took a sip, inhaling the confidence to make your final decision. 

“Okay, and my word is, I want the two of you in my bedroom. Right now.”

+

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[al-the-remix]

BuckTommy Positivity Week Day 4: hobbies and dates

a dirt biking date for @bucktommypositivityweek day four! 🏍

(Something, something, I have a lot of feelings about Buck finally having someone who trusts him to be himself, even when he's reckless and impulsive. It's an important facet of the Evan Buckley Experience. Anyway, this only sort of brushes the surface of that.)

So maybe taking Evan out on the trails had been a little self-serving…but Tommy had always been a sucker for a man straddling a dirt bike. In his experience, all men looked better with a little mud on them. It was one of those fixations that had started early, sinking its teeth into his lizard-brain like a dog and refusing to be shaken off.  

And maybe he hadn’t been prepared for just how good Evan would look, all adrenalin-flushed and wind-chafed, his curls unglued from their standard gel and plastered to his forehead with helmet-sweat. Unlike some of his previous boyfriends, Evan actually knew how to ride a motorcycle; the competence was both incredibly hot and had presented its own issues...

Road biking and dirt biking weren’t the same, but Evan’s eyes had gotten big and dish-saucer like when he’d seen the bikes hanging from the ceiling in Tommy's garage. Not long after he had been hovering over Tommy’s shoulder as Tommy had showed him maps of off road trails on his iPad, pointing out the ones he had thought looked nice.

“That one,” Evan had said, indicating a trail marked Difficult. “It’s got a great look out.”

Tommy had raised a brow. “Are you sure you don’t want to take it easy for your first time?”

Evan had snorted out a laugh in his ear. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Right, I forgot who I was talking to…” he’d teased and Evan had elbowed him playfully. “Alright, Bud Ekins, advanced it is.”

In his experience Evan Buckley wasn’t a man who needed training wheels or kid gloves; and watching him tear away on one of Tommy’s bikes onto the forest trail was just another, very literal instance of Evan revving the gas and leaving Tommy in the dust. It was thrilling on some level. It had been a long time since Tommy felt challenged in a relationship in positive ways, he hadn’t realized till meeting Evan how stuck in a rut (ha) his dating life had been for a while now. 

It was all going very smoothly until it wasn’t. It only took a split second for Evan’s bike to spin out and disappear into a ditch. Tommy swore, pulling into a sliding stop. 

“Wait! Wait, don’t move!” he called, jogging over to where Evan lay flat on his back, looking a little stunned. At least all his limbs were laying at the correct angles. 

He slid down the bank on his heels, coming to kneel at Evan’ side. “Did you land on a rock or anything?” He ripped his gloves back to feel around Evan’s neck.

“I’m fine,” he groaned as he reached for his helmet. “You wrapped me up in enough protective gear you could FedEx me cross country.”

“Well, you’re a very important package,” Tommy quipped, finally allowing Evan to sit up.

Evan rolled his eyes huffing out a laugh. He didn’t look too banged up, but Tommy still felt compelled to ask: “How does your head feel? We should go to the hospital if you think you could have a concussion.”

“Do you really want to spend the rest of our day off in the ER?” Evan challenged.

“I’d be more than happy to, if needed.”

Evan’s eyes skated down and away as he visibly swallowed. “Seriously, I’ve broken enough bones and sprained enough joints to recognize it when it happens. I’m good.”

Tommy didn’t exactly feel great about that, but he wasn’t about to force Evan to do anything he didn’t want to. He knew his body well. 

“And you’d let me know if you did?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Tommy said, giving Evan a hand pulling his bike back out of the ditch. “You think you can get yourself back? I can give you a ride and get the bike out later if you want.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Evan said, tightening his neck guard back up. 

“We’ll go slow.”

When they made it back to the parking lot Tommy got Evan situated on the tailgate of his truck and went to forage for his first aid kit buried under other junk in the backseat footwell. 

Evan was peeling his chest protector off with a grimace when Tommy returned. “I don’t think I had enough skin showing to get any scraps, mostly what’s bruised is my ego,” Evan said, a little sheepishly as Tommy settled in between his knees. 

“Let me check for my own peace of mind.”

He helped peel the long sleeve over Evan’s head, who sat surprisingly patiently as Tommy gave him the once over. His skin was flushed and a little bruised but all together nothing too serious, and maybe Tommy lingered just a little longer than necessary, running his hands up along Evan's arms and over the broad curve of his shoulders. 

“Ah, I see, this was just an excuse to feel me up the whole time,” Evan drawled when he realized what Tommy was up to.

“You caught me,” Tommy said, slipping deeper between Evan’s legs. 

Admittedly Evan had been correct, and he’d be sore and stiff tomorrow, but no worse off. The only broken skin was a small scrape on his arm where his sleeve had rolled up, and Tommy took his time dressing it even though it wasn’t bleeding. 

“You know, Maddie used to do this for me all the time,” Evan said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them. “I was always getting myself into some kind of predicament.”

Tommy hummed. “No wonder she's such a good nurse, she had a good patient to practice on.”

“I’m not sure she’d agree,” Evan said, his laugh edging on self-concious. 

“I think she would,” Tommy said and pressed a kiss to the bandaid for good measure. “There, as good as new.”

“Well, I still feel a little embarrassed,” Evan admitted as he hopped off the tailgate with a groan and hobbled around so he could lean himself against the side of the truck. “It's way harder to put the moves on you with a limp.”

“I wasn't aware I was being wooed,” Tommy said as he began setting up the ramp.

“You're always being wooed, trust me,” Evan drawlled, gaze skating the length of Tommy’s body as he pushed the first bike up into the bed.

Tommy paused, catching Evan’s eyes where he stood, looking down at him. He knew with Evan his life would never be boring, but instead of being intimidating, the prospect was a comforting one. He knew that he’d never have to worry about where Evan was coming from or if he wanted Tommy as badly as Tommy wanted him. Evan, who was intense and passionate and sincere, someone Tommy could get into trouble with and he knew would still be at his side when they had to dig their way back out. 

He trusted Evan to be himself: one of the strongest people Tommy knew.

 “I do,” Tommy said, with more weight in his words than he was really intending. "Trust you.

Evan’s expression turned a bit startled, then softened. “Thank you.”

[definitelynothim-notalex]

Title: "Flour Power at Home"

Marko x Reader

---

It was a typical evening in your cozy little house in Santa Carla, and you were in the mood to bake. Not just any baked goods, though—today, you were determined to make the perfect cake. You had all the ingredients set out, the recipe pulled up on your phone, and a sense of determination. Baking was one of those things that grounded you, and you were ready to turn your kitchen into a flour-dusted masterpiece.

The problem? Marko was in your kitchen. And Marko, despite his charm, was... well, not exactly the most domesticated of creatures.

“I still don’t get it,” Marko said, leaning against your kitchen counter, looking at the ingredients. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion at the pile of flour, sugar, and butter in front of him. “I mean, how hard can this be? You just throw it all together, right?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing a little. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, Marko. There are *steps* involved. You need to follow them. Baking is all about precision.”

Marko grinned, clearly unimpressed by your explanation. “Precision? Pfft, I’m just here for the fun part—the *eating* part.”

You set the bowl on the counter, giving him a look. “If you’re going to help, then you need to actually *help.*”

Marko leaned in closer, peering into the flour bag you’d just opened. His eyes glinted with mischief. “Alright, teach me, then. What’s first?”

You tried to hold back a smile at his eager expression, shaking your head. “Okay. First, we’re going to mix the dry ingredients. But we need to open the flour bag carefully, or—”

Before you could finish, Marko grabbed the bag of flour with way too much enthusiasm and pulled it open. With a sudden *whoosh*, the flour exploded out of the bag like a puff of smoke. A massive cloud of white powder engulfed both of you, covering every surface and, more importantly, *you*.

You froze. For a split second, you couldn’t see anything through the flour cloud. When it cleared, you blinked at Marko, who was standing there with a grin plastered across his face, looking like a ghost in the middle of a storm.

Flour was everywhere—on the floor, on the counters, in your hair, and most definitely all over you. You stood there, covered head to toe, unable to do anything but stare at him.

Marko blinked, his smile faltering as he realized the extent of the mess he’d caused. “Uh... I’m pretty sure that’s not how you’re supposed to open the flour bag?”

You turned to him, your face a mix of shock and amusement. "I literally said, *carefully,* Marko!"

He bit his lip, trying desperately to hold in his laughter, but it was no use. The moment he saw the flour covering your face, he burst out laughing, the sound echoing in your kitchen. “I mean, come on, you’ve gotta admit, that was kind of funny.”

You shot him a deadpan look. “You’re cleaning this up,” you said, trying to brush off some of the flour from your arms and face.

Marko stepped toward you, still chuckling, and tried to help, but he only made it worse by swiping flour off your hair, sending more flying everywhere. “I swear, I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” he said, now looking slightly guilty, but still chuckling. “Maybe I should be the one wearing a white suit if we’re gonna do this right.”

You tried to scowl at him, but the absurdity of the situation and his infectious laugh made it impossible to stay mad. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the small grin that crept onto your face. “I look like a ghost. A *flour* ghost.”

Marko leaned in close, inspecting you with exaggerated concern. “Are you sure you’re not turning into a cake yourself?” he teased, his eyes sparkling. “Because, you’re looking pretty *delicious* right now.”

You snorted. “You are *so* lucky you’re cute,” you said, wiping some of the flour off your face. “Okay, I’m going to get cleaned up. You—” You pointed at him, “—stay here and *don’t* make it worse.”

“Me?” Marko raised an eyebrow. “Make it worse? You’ve got the wrong idea. I’m *helping*.”

You gave him one last look before heading to the bathroom, trying to shake the flour out of your hair. When you returned a few minutes later, Marko had, of course, not been able to resist. He had taken the opportunity to toss flour in the air like confetti, and now the kitchen looked like a snowstorm had exploded in it. But in the chaos, he was grinning like a kid in a candy store, holding up a spoon as if it were a sword.

“You know what?” Marko said, still grinning, “We should just make this *our thing*. Flour fights and cake baking—*that’s* how we roll now.”

You could only laugh. You were covered in flour, the kitchen was a disaster zone, but somehow, this felt *perfect*. You couldn’t be mad at him. Not when he was looking at you like that.

You shook your head, wiping some flour off your forehead and grabbing a spatula. “Alright, Marko, enough playing around. We’re baking this cake—*together*—even if it kills us.”

Marko winked and made a dramatic bow. “As long as I get to eat it at the end, I’m in.”

You gave him a playful shove, laughing. "You’ll get your cake. But first, *we* need to survive this mess."

And with that, you both set to work—well, Marko mostly watched and handed you things, but his antics kept the mood light. Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime of laughter and flour, the cake was finally done.

Despite everything, it turned out perfect—sweet, soft, and delicious. And after all the flour chaos, it tasted even sweeter.

Marko slid a piece of cake onto a plate and handed it to you. “See?” he said, his grin wide, “Told you I could be a good baker.”

You took a bite, savoring the sweetness. “Yeah, *you’re* the one who got flour all over me, and *I* did most of the work,” you said with a smile.

Marko leaned back against the counter, looking smug. “Yeah, but I make it fun, don’t I?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re lucky I love you, Marko.”

“Lucky?” He gave you a playful look. “I think I’m the one who’s lucky.”

And as the two of you sat down to enjoy your messy, perfect cake, you couldn’t help but feel that, despite the chaos, this was a night you’d never forget.

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Okay so I'm rewatching yellowjackets right now, and Taivan during the plane crash are so secret wolfstar after a raid/unexpected deatheater attack so here we GO

The blast comes from nowhere.

No warning, no shout, no apparating in or out.

One second they're walking through Hogsmeade, laughing, joking, the relief at having a day off allowing all of the marauders to relax, for once.

The next second? Chaos erupts.

The side of a shop is blasted open, only metres from the marauders.

For a moment, they're all stood in shock. Panicked wizards move around them, the four of them frozen.

Until another blast separates them.

It comes from behind them, close enough for the force to shove Sirius forward. It pushes him to the ground, hands immediately flying up to cover his head as debris flies past him. He watches James duck into an alleyway across from him. Without hesitating, he pushes himself up, just enough to run and duck behind a building. A third blast sounds.

A light steals his focus, eyes immediately drawn to the symbol in the sky.

The deatheaters.

He can hear people apparating, deatheaters escaping, as the dust finally starts to settle. It's over before he's had a chance to take a breath, and people are emerging. Sirius follows suit, slowly leaving the alleyway and looking around at the damage. His eyes scan quickly, looking for Remus.

"Remus?" His voice is croaky, chest pained from being slammed into the ground. "Remus!"

He's nowhere to be found.

Panic starts to grip at Sirius, as he begins to go between people, a little manic.

"Have- have you seen Remus?" Hestia shakes her head, shaking. "Or- wait, have you? Have you seen Remus?"

"Sirius!" James' voice rings out, and Sirius' shoulders loosen ever so slightly. James pulls him into a hug, but Sirius still hasn't found him.

"Have you seen Remus?"

"I- no, I haven't."

"Remus?" Sirius calls out again, walking towards another person he recognises. "Have you seen Remus?"

"Sirius, it's-"

"Have you- has anybody seen Remus?"

His mind starts to flash him awful images; Remus trapped beneath a ton of bricks, unconscious and bleeding, dying without anybody knowing where to find and save him. He keeps looking, frantic, stumbling over bricks and debris, past injured people, eyes scanning every inch of the vast expanse until-

His eyes finally, finally land on Remus.

Sirius can only see his back, a tear in his jumper. His light brown curls are messy, dust covered, and he's visibly shaking.

Sirius breaks into a run.

He's not thinking as he sprints over, reaching out and throwing his arms around him from behind, over his shoulders.

"Remus!"

"Sirius!"

Remus turns, immediately wrapping his arms around Sirius. Relief floods through Sirius' body, pressing his face into Remus' collarbone and clinging to him like he's going to disappear. Remus' grip tightens on him until Sirius can feel his heart pounding. Their hearts pounding.

He needs to pull away. He knows that. It'll look weird if they stay like this.

Slowly, hesitantly, the two of them split apart. Sirius finally gets to look at him, eyes surveying his face. He has to fight to keep his hands from cupping Remus' face, having to find comfort in the familiarity of his amber eyes instead. There's a gash on the side of Remus' head, just above his temple, and Sirius' brow furrows.

"Your head..."

Remus reaches up, fingers brushing over the cut.

"It's nothing." He waves it off, offering Sirius a smile. "We're okay-"

"Boys!" Fleamont Potter appears out of nowhere, and the boys instinctively take a step apart from one another. "We're leaving."

Sirius has never wanted to be alone with Remus more in his life. The two of them are stuck following Fleamont with James and Peter. They try to stay as close as they physically can without arousing suspicion, but Sirius just wants to cling to Remus and never let go. He wants to sit and sob into Remus' shoulder, kiss him until neither of them can breathe, count every single freckle on his face to show himself that Remus is actually here.

The marauders end up sitting in the Potters' dining room, various hot drinks in front of each of them. They sit in silence, Sirius' hands shaking to the point that he has to set his hot chocolate down as soon as he's picked it up. Remus' eyes meet his reassuringly, and Sirius tries to remind himself to breathe. To force the images that keep flashing up out of his head.

"Remus, lovely?" Euphemia walks in, sitting beside Remus. "Your parents want you home."

"Okay." Remus nods once, and Euphemia pats his hand. "I'll go pack." He shoots Sirius a look, and Sirius doesn't hesitate in picking it up.

"I'll help."

Euphemia reaches out and squeezes Sirius' shoulders before the two of them stand. They walk down the hall together, Sirius trying his best to walk at a normal pace as they reach the door.

The moment they get inside, Remus pulls Sirius into a hug. Sirius finally lets himself fall apart, Remus holding him as he cries, his hand raking gently through Sirius' hair.

"I thought- I thought you-" Remus tries to say, voice low.

"I didn't think we were ever going to..." Sirius pulls away as he trails off, finally cupping Remus' face with both of his hands. "I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you too. Fuck, Sirius, I love you." Remus leans in and connects their lips, and Sirius wraps his arms around Remus' waist.

The kiss is desperate, hands in each other's hair, grappling at jaws, gripping shirts and pulling one another impossibly closer.

Eventually, Sirius pulls Remus back into an embrace, kissing the side of his neck when he does.

"We're okay," Remus says softly, fingers drifting up and down Sirius' back. "We're here, and we're okay." Sirius nods, holding Remus a little tighter.

"We're okay."

[crheativity]

SUMMARY: thanks to two certain idiots, you were yet again landed in detention. As if your luck couldn’t get any worse, of course it has to start raining! But no worries, a certain Hyena has your back.

WARNINGS: mentions of Ace Trappola, Ruggie says D*mn. Other than that it’s just tooth rotting fluff!

COMMENTS: Anndd here’s the Ruggie fic! It’s not very long but I thought it turned out pretty cute. I hope you guys enjoy!

How perfect, you thought dully, staring out into the rain that bucketed down just outside the entrance. As if your day couldn’t get any worse.

Actually, scratch that. Your day hadn’t really been all that bad, come to think of it. Other than those dirtbags Ace and Grim ‘generously’ gifting you a pretty seat in detention from their shenanigans. Granted, it had been pretty funny. Not detention-worthy, but still funny.

“Shishishi, penny for ya thoughts, Prefect?”

You grinned; that adorably contagious laugh could only belong to one person - your crush.

“Hey Rugs.”

Ruggie Bucchi appeared to your left, hands held behind his head and smiling widely, revealing his little fangs. His dirty blond hair was just as messy as usual, and his drooping blue eyes held that usual mischievous glint that never failed to capture your attention and make your heart skip a beat. “Hey yourself. Whatcha doing out here this late in the afternoon?” He crossed his arms, curiosity in his eyes. “Almost never see you out here this late.”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I got detention.”

He let out a low whistle. “Damn, Prefect. Never took you for the type.”

You smiled. “It happens. Still, though…” you looked out at the downpour and cringed. “That rain is coming down fast. Wish I’d had time to grab an umbrella.”

Ruggie raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. “You can afford an umbrella?”

“No.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Shoulda guessed. Welp, you’re in luck then, Prefect. I got one in my bag.”

You looked at him curiously. “You own an umbrella?”

He cracked a charmingly crooked smile. “Nah, it’s Leona’s.” He winked and held his finger in front of his mouth. “If you keep that on the down-low for me, I’ll let ya use it if you want.”

“Really?!” Your eyes lit up with hope, and you could’ve sworn his expression softened for a second, before returning to his signature cheeky grin.

“‘Course!” He grabbed his bag and, after digging around for a while, pulled out a black umbrella. “Take it.” He held it out to you, but you hesitated.

“Are you sure? We could both share it. That way we’d both stay dry.”

He looked startled for a moment, an almost unnoticeable pink briefly dusting his cheeks before he recovered and smiled. “Nah, I got errands to run. You should head back to Ramshackle before this rain gets any worse.”

“Alright, if you’re sure… thanks, Ruggie!” You reached to take the umbrella.

As you took the umbrella, your hand brushed his. For a split second, it looked as though Ruggie had been jolted by static electricity. Then, he shakily laughed it off, shrugging off his jacket and lifting it over his head.

“Welp, gotta go, later Prefect!” He smiled, a little nervously, and plunged into the rain.

Warmth spread over your face as you watched him disappear with a smile. Maybe one day you’d be able to have a conversation where he didn’t try to escape before the end.

Not yet, but soon.

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[heart-of-gold-outlaw]

Welcome Home | Chapter 13: No Surprises

When you open your eyes the next morning, you see a butterfly.

It's a pretty little thing, all delicate wings that float gently in the early summer breeze. A monarch, you think. It sits perched on the small piece of wood that acts as your nightstand, right next to the flower in a bottle that Arthur gave you some time after you all left the Grizzlies.

You blink and rub your eyes, just to clear the sleep from them is all. But when your vision clears, the butterfly is gone.

The rest of the gang is already up and about. Camp chores don't do themselves, you suppose, and head for the chopping block to get some firewood ready. Abigail smiles at you when you pass by, and you're pleased to note that so far, she's kept her end of the bargain and hasn't said a word to Arthur about your conversation yesterday. Good. The last thing you need is a strong cowboy crushing your fragile little heart with his strong cowboy boot.

Not that you think Arthur will be mean when he rejects you (if you ever decide to tell him about your feelings, that is).

You reach the chopping block and grab the ax. The first log splits clean in two without much of a fuss, but the second one is a bit stubborn. The third is even worse, and by the time you finish the fourth, you're sweating.

"Come on, you piece of shit fucking fuck," you hiss as the ax gets stuck in fifth log. Again. "Come on!"

You're dimly aware of Kieran giving you a terrified glance as he scurries by. You can only imagine what you must look like, ax in your hand, eyes wild, cursing everything under the sun as you bang the log against the chopping block again and again and again.

"Ain't strong enough to chop a little wood?" Micah sneers as he stalks over. As usual, he doesn't look happy. As usual, you're disgusted by his very presence.

"Go fuck a brick," you snap at him as you finally, finally, succeed in splitting the log. Splinters fly every which way, but at least it's done.

Micah blinks, confused for just a moment, before your words register and he narrows his eyes.

"You think that just because you're Morgan's favorite, you can get away with talkin' to me like that?" He demands.

You open your mouth to tell him to fuck a stick this time, but abruptly shut it when you realize what he said. Favorite? Arthur's favorite? Not possible. Arthur's got plenty of other people in camp he likes more than you. Sure, you're entertaining to him, a distraction for when things get a little too boring, but you're not important.

"I think I can get away with a lot of things," you hear yourself say, sounding a lot more confident than you feel. "And that'll include your murder if you don't back the hell off."

Silence. Micah glares at you, venomous, like a rattlesnake, and you do your best to glare back. And it must look at least a little convincing, because he eventually shakes his head and stomps off.

"Goddamn waste of space," he mutters.

You're thankful he has his back to you so he doesn't see you flinch. Gritting your teeth, you set the ax aside and kick the firewood into a neater pile. And if you kick some of them a little harder than necessary, then so be it.

The rest of the camp chores are already well underway, so your plans of losing yourself in tasks immediately turn to ash. You take to wandering toward the horses without much thought. Taima whinnies softly once you're close by. It's almost enough to make you smile. Over the last few weeks, you've bonded with her more than you thought you would. She's a sweet horse, odd for a mare, and you just know she'd never try to throw you.

You give her an oatcake that was buried in your pocket. Then, after a moment's hesitation, you start brushing her. Chances are, she's already been groomed for the morning, but you don't think Charles will mind if you do a little extra.

As you brush the dirt and dust from Taima's coat, you can't help but think about what Micah said. Waste of space, he called you. There are certainly worse things to be called, that's for sure, but this hits a little too close to home. How many times have you heard people in your own time say the same thing? How many times did you have people you looked up to, people you loved, shake their heads with heavy sighs and mumble to themselves that you wouldn't do, just wouldn't do at all?

Tears well in your eyes, and you wince against the sting. Great. Now you're crying. Now you're crying because some jerk said something mean, and your skin isn't thick enough to brush it off. How are you supposed to fit in with a gang of outlaws if you cry when someone's just a little bit angry?

Engrossed in your thoughts, you don't hear the sound of footsteps from behind you, don't even realize you're not alone until a familiar drawl says: "You feelin' okay, Y/N?"

He startled you, of course he did, but you miraculously don't jump, throw the brush, or do anything that's particularly embarrassing. Somehow.

"I'm fine," you say automatically, wiping your eyes before turning to face Arthur. "Just thought I'd give Taima a brush."

Arthur frowns and slowly places a steady hand on your shoulder. His eyes are drawn to yours, taking in every detail, noticing the tears without a doubt.

"You wanna tell me what's wrong?" He asks gently, and boy, how a simple question can be so complicated, you have no idea.

You look around camp. You don't want anyone else to notice you. It's bad enough that Arthur already has to see you cry, but you don't think you can bear it if Dutch or Hosea start fussing.

As if reading your mind, Arthur gives your shoulder a warm, reassuring pat.

"Let's go for a ride into town," he says. "Charles ain't gonna mind if you borrow Taima for a bit."

The ride into Valentine is short, but does wonders to clear your head. Taima's gate is smooth, sure, and soothing as you and Arthur approach the saloon. You're proud to admit that you can actually dismount without needing help now. Looks like practice really does make perfect. And, of course, Arthur's approving smile is absolutely the best thing you've seen all day.

You both take a seat at the bar. The piano player is already hammering away on the keys, an upbeat, fun tune that almost makes you want to dance. The Maple Leaf Rag, you think. You know the song from a film class you took some years ago. Guess it never really left your head.

"So," Arthur drawls as he orders you both a couple of drinks. It's still relatively early in the morning, but hey, you're down for day drinking. "What happened this mornin?"

You fidget a little on the bar stool. "I mean, nothing really. Went to chop some firewood, had a little trouble with the ax, told Micah I'd murder him... the usual?"

The second you mention Micah, Arthur's face hardens.

"Micah say anything to you?" He asks, voice low and serious.

For a second, you think about lying. But Arthur's giving you that look, the one that says he's genuinely concerned, and any chance you would've had at fooling him is instantly crushed.

"Yeah," you mumble. "He was just being a jerk at first, but..." You bite your lip uncertainly. "But he called me a waste of space, and... I don't know why that hit me as hard as it did, but..."

You trail off, unsure of how to continue. How can you tell Arthur the truth? How can you tell him that you were just starting to feel at home here in the 1890s, and then some jerk who probably can't even spell waste of space had to go and ruin it?

Arthur sighs and shakes his head. "That goddamn animal," he hisses. "Look, Y/N, I'm gonna settle somethin' for you right here and now: you ain't a waste of space. You done more for us in the last month than Micah's done in the last six. Ain't nobody that matters gonna tell you different."

Embarrassingly, you feel your eyes start to sting again. You stubbornly blink the tears away.

"Thanks," you say in a small voice. "I guess... I guess Micah's just has shit for brains?"

Arthur laughs. "That's givin' him too much credit."

You smile at him and bump his shoulder with your own. "Thanks, Arthur. For everything."

Arthur nods, reaches out, and brushes a stray tear from your face that managed to escape.

"Ain't no trouble, Y/N," he says softly. "Ain't no trouble at all."